


Colibri 306

by Ayame_no_kimi



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Ending, Canon Divergence, Kylo Ren is dead because his character in tros bores me to death, M/M, Minor Jannah/Rose Tico, Rey is dead because of plot reasons but I still like her, Suicide Attempts, au where denim exists in the SW universe, basically pwp with a bit more plot than porn, enemies and lovers yes at the same time, everyting about this fic is problematic enter at your own risk, for your own sake DO NOT read this if you're passionate about finnpoe, nobody important dies but at some point you will stop trusting this tag, that time I accidentally almost wrote snuff porn, tons of original lore, undernegotiated consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:28:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29742906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayame_no_kimi/pseuds/Ayame_no_kimi
Summary: *begin text crawl*Three years have passed since Palpatine has defeated and killed Rey and Kylo Ren in the Battle of Exegol, and established himself as Emperor over the Core of the Galaxy. Now Rose and Poe have revived the Resistance to fight against the oppressive regime of the Final Order. Although their chances of success are slim, they have launched a mission to free several of their allies from imprisonment, when they meet the familiar face of a man they thought dead. Will he help them turn the tides against the Emperor or will he once again fight them as their embittered enemy?*end text crawl*Some of the chapters are pretty tough to deal with. Instead of universal tags I give content warnings for individual chapters. READ THE NOTES AT THE START OF EACH CHAPTER! For particularly tough chapters I'll provide a summary in the end notes, so you can scroll to the end if you prefer to skip without missing out on the plot.I do not care about canon. I have not read any of the books or comics and I will never bother to do so. If you discover discrepancies, you may quietly seethe over them, because I literally do not care. I write what I want.Updates Tuesdays and Saturdays
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 19
Kudos: 25





	1. What’s the body temperature of a Tauntaun? Luke Warm.

The siren blares over the crowded streets, triggering a bustling urgency in the passers-by as they hurry to get home before the inspection. Poe’s heart rate spikes. He breathes flat through the nose to kill all noise while he waits in his hiding spot for the streets to clear and the inspection to begin. If they find him here they will arrest him, find out who he is, and execute him without blinking an eye.

As the noise calms down, his own heartbeat starts thumping in his head. Across the shabby downtown street of the lower Trader’s District of Coruscant, a movement catches his eye. He breathes in relief as he finds his comrades arriving at their posts.

They are barely half a mile from the Final Order 78th control base sitting at the entrance to the lower Trader’s District. Ever since the riots two months ago, the curfew has made it impossible to move outside after nine p.m. Anyone out on the streets after the siren sounds is arrested and thrown into one of the FO prison labour camps off planet. But not tonight. Tonight they will turn the tables.

The intercom crackles.

“Ready?” Rose whispers through the ear bud.

“Ready,” he mumbles.

“Remember, all we need is the captain. We get him, we get out of here. Get him to the warehouse and find out when the next arms shipment is supposed to leave the Auril Sector.”

“All right, all right, I got it,” Poe grumbles.

“Not just you, all of us.” Rose has switched on the group channel. “Don’t try to fight anyone else. As long as we haven’t freed the prisoners, we can’t risk a revenge strike from their side. We need to keep a low profile.”

“We got it, Rose,” Jannah whispers. “Poe, do you see them?”

Poe, who has been watching the dimly lit street like a hawk, shakes his head. “They’re slow today.”

“If they don’t come tonight-” Rose huffs.

“Relax, they’ll come. You got the smoke grenade ready?”

“Yeah. Got your mask?”

“All set.” He tugs at the breathing mask slung around his neck, then adjusts his heat vision goggles.

They have prepared this strike for weeks. As soon as they have the captain and the intel on the next arms shipment, they can hijack the shipment. Keep the captain prisoner until they have seized the arms, so he won’t blather. Get the weapons, storm the prison base outside of Coruscant, free their comrades. Once they have taken back their leverage from the FO, they can plan bigger missions.

A shadow moves on the quiet street. Two officers round the corner, accompanied by three stormtroopers with guns in their hands. The two men step closer, then halt in front of a wine bar. One of them, the captain, pounds a fist to the door. Standard random checks, making sure all family member are accounted for. If one is missing without formal permission, that is an arrest for the whole family.

“He’s got company,” Poe informs Rose. “Someone is with him, someone high ranking. That’s-”

He sucks in his breath. The second man, tall but thin, moves a step into the street light and for a second the bright bronze of his hair flashes up.

“Rose, it’s Hux.”

“Impossible.”

“I’m telling you.”

“Poe, Hux is dead.”

“Yeah, but it’s him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Only one ginger in the whole Final Order.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Okay, maybe not. But that’s Hux.”

“Poe, he’s been gone for three years. We haven’t heard a single word of him since Exegol. He must have died, you’re seeing ghosts.”

“He tortured me. Okay? Dude spent days torturing me for information and enjoying it, too. Trust me, I know what he looks like.”

Rose falls quiet for half a minute. “Shit.”

“What do we do?”

The line crackles and Jannah’s voice pipes up. “Wasn’t he your spy? The one who switched sides in the end?”

“Yeah,” Poe breathes. “Do you think he’s still on our side?”

“Three years,” Rose mumbles. “It’s risky. Why’d he change sides, anyway?”

“Said he couldn’t let Kylo Ren win.”

“Yeah, well, Kylo Ren is dead, so he clearly didn’t win. We have no idea where Hux’s loyalties lie now.”

“We have to find out.”

“Poe, no, we agreed-”

“He saved our lives, Rose. We owe it to him to find out.”

Silence, then Rose curses. “Fine. We get them both, Hux and the captain. Take them to the warehouse, question them. If we find out he’s still on our side, well, we can decide what to do with him then.”

“Everybody heard that?” Poe waits until everyone has mumbled their assent. “Great. They’re coming. Get ready on my command.”

With a hiss the grenade explodes and fills the entire street with a stinking mixture of opaque smoke and toxic gas that knocks out the entire squad within ten seconds. Masks drawn over their faces, Poe and his crewmates jump down into the street. The heat vision goggles lead them to the five FO soldiers lying on the ground, dark red glowing shapes for the captain and Hux, a bit lighter for the stormtroopers covered in protective armour.

One of the stormtroopers raises their blaster from the ground and blasts a wavering shot past Poe’s ear. The gas works through their helmets, albeit more slowly. Poe treads on the stormtrooper’s hand to free the weapon, then kicks them in the head. It snaps back and the trooper breaks down.

“Quickly!” Rose and Sal have grabbed the captain and heaved him over Sal’s shoulders.

Poe yanks up Hux’s arm, lifts him up, slings him over his shoulder, and nods at Jannah, who leads him to the ground racer waiting disguised as a garbage heap in between two bushes. They drop both men into the trunk, then jump into the racer and rush off.

The warehouse they have chosen for the interrogation lies far outside the city in one of the deserted, dilapidated parts of Coruscant. Crows and half-feral cats scavenge the area. Broken down homes barely offer shelter for the homeless and refugees, especially since the Final Order has begun covering the area in toxic fumes once a week to chase out anyone they deem ‘vermin.’

In the middle of all the destruction lies the little warehouse, sealed airtight since it used to work with oil fumes that had to be kept out of the neighbourhood. Rose and Riva fixed it up to make it habitable again.

Sal takes the captain into one of the storage closets and ties him to a chair.

“What about Hux?” Jannah asks. “Should we separate them?”

Rose nods. “Take him into the other room.”

She brings a chair over and Poe unloads Hux into the second, smaller storage closet.

“Tie him up?” he asks.

“Yes,” Rose says. “We need to know where we stand with him before we can take any chances.”

She hands Poe the cuffs. “The gas should work for about half an hour. He’ll wake up in a couple of minutes.” She watches him cuff the unconscious Hux to the chair, then take two guns and a long dagger from Hux’s belt. “How do we know he really is on our side?”

“Oh, you know.” He straightens up and steps back. “If he’s all, ‘Thank the stars you guys finally found me,’ I’d say he’s safe. He goes ‘Untie me now, you imbeciles, or face my wrath,’ then we better be careful.”

Rose nods and takes the weapons Poe hands her. “You got water?”

He pulls out a fresh bottle of water. One of the nasty side effects of the sleeping agent is that it dries out mouth and throat.

They wait. For minutes, Hux hangs in the chair unmoving, only his chest rising and falling on ragged breaths. Then, a soft stir. A hitch in his breathing, a shudder passing through his muscles as he begins to lift his head and open his eyes.

Blinks once, twice, turns his head. His eyes grow wide, then his arms move, yank at the cuffs. He takes quick stock of his surroundings, his situation, then looks up and sees Poe and Rose.

At once, the snarl curls his lips. His eyes blaze in anger. “Imbeciles,” he barks at them. “Release me or you will pay dearly for your transgression!”

Rose exhales on a gentle sigh. “Impressive. You predicted him almost verbatim.”

Poe shrugs. “We got a history.” He steps forward. “Welcome back, Hux. Where have you been all this time?”

“Where am I?” Hux snaps back, clearly unwilling to banter.

“In a secure location. What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened, you’re the one who should tell me how I ended up here!”

“Not this. You. We thought you’d died in the Battle of Exegol.”

“I didn’t. Does that answer your question? What do you want from me?”

“Why so hostile? Aren’t we friends?”

Hux nearly spits venom at him. “Friends! I am not your friend, now untie me or kill me, but quit your blabbering!”

“You were on our side, remember? Spied on Kylo Ren for us, saved our lives. If the FO is forcing you to comply, you can tell us. We can help you.”

Hux barks out a shrieking laugh. “Are you brainless as well as deaf? I never wanted you to win! I needed Kylo Ren out of the way, now he is. He is dead. I got everything I wanted from you.”

“Is it because you think this place is bugged by the FO? Blink twice if you want us to get you out of there.”

Hux hisses, literally hisses at him like a cat.

Rose steps forward. “We got it. You’re not our ally, you’re still with the FO. Poe, can we go?”

Poe shakes his head, stubborn. There has to be more to the story. “We thought you dead. Where were you these past three years?”

“Working,” Hux spits. “Mostly to thwart you.”

“Okay, but you don’t just turn against your organization and then turn back. You helped us out once, don’t tell me you forgot about that.”

“Why is this so hard for you to conceive?” Hux’s eyes burn into his, his whole face distorted in contempt. “I used you. You were mere tools in my rivalry with Kylo Ren. I gained everything I desired from that war and you lost everything, so why would I ally with you?”

“He’s right,” Rose says. “Let’s go.”

“You go ahead,” Poe says without taking his eyes off of Hux. “Give me one more minute.”

She sighs, but does not protest. When she closes the door on them, Poe steps up to Hux, who glares at him chest heaving, breath rasp and dry. He stretches out his hand and picks the badge from Hux’s collar, follows the two black lines with red piping with his fingers.

“Admiral,” he says. “Not general. What happened?”

“None of your fucking business.”

He looks at Hux. “You got demoted.”

“What the hell do you want from me?”

“I want to understand you. Come on, you saved my life once. You can’t expect me to just give up on you like that.”

“Then let me go and see where it takes you. I don’t associate with worthless scum.”

“Oh sweetie, always so liberal with the pet names.” Poe raises the bottle. “Water? You look parched.”

Lips pressed together, Hux scowls at him.

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. It’s a side effect of the knock-out gas. It’s potent, our own little invention, but it leaves you dry. You’re not going to refuse a bit of water, are you?”

Hux keeps glaring at him, but he says nothing, so Poe opens the bottle. He dips it towards Hux’s mouth. Hux rears back.

“Just free one of my hands.”

“No, baby, no can do. I might be an imbecile and worthless scum, but I’m not stupid.”

He dips the bottle and lets Hux drink in small sips. For all his defiance he accepts the water eagerly and drinks up almost half the bottle.

“Better?” Poe asks as he steps back.

“You’ll have to kill me anyway,” Hux mutters. “Why bother with pleasantries?”

“Yoda’s flappy ears, Hux, we’re not going to kill you. We’re good guys who don’t murder our helpless prisoners no matter how much they annoy us. Besides, you saved our lives once.”

“Will you stop holding that against me!”

“If you truly want to act like our alliance never happened, fine. We’ll keep you here for a couple more days while we run a little heist, but don’t worry. We’ll keep you fed and in good spirits. As soon as we’re done we’ll let you go.”

“That’s brainless. You got me; why not use me in exchange for whatever it is you’re so desperately after?”

“Because, and please don’t take this as an affront from our side, we firmly believe that the FO would rather watch their own admiral die in enemy hands than hand over a single rusty nail to us.”

Silence falls.

Finally Hux jerks his head. “No interrogating me?”

“Nope. It’s not you we were after, anyway.”

“It must itch you to torture me.”

Poe shrugs. “We don’t torture.”

Hux huffs out a deep breath. “If you let me go I will hunt you down. I won’t rest until I’ve killed every last one of you.”

“Babe, you know how much I love it when you flirt with me, but I gotta go. We’ll talk soon, okay?” He blows a kiss to Hux, who looks ready to tear through the steel cuffs and take the place apart, then leaves.

Rose is waiting for him outside, arms crossed. “So?”

He shrugs. “What about the captain?”

“He’s woken up,” Jannah says, “and he looks ready to break. What do we do? Do you want to question Hux, or do we try the captain?”

“No use questioning Hux,” Poe says. “He wouldn’t even say yes to water if it saved his life. I have to phrase the question the exact way that doesn’t need an answer from him to say yes. But we can still use him against the captain.”

“How?”

With a crooked grin he holds up Hux’s admiral badge. “We threaten him.”

They enter the room where the captain is sitting on his chair, watching them line up in front of him anxiously.

Poe flashes him the badge. “So we got your admiral. He seems livid. Now, we have no interest in harming you, but what do you think happens to you if Admiral Hux finds out you’ve been colluding with us?”

As expected the captain’s eyes widen in panic. “Please… whatever you want, just don’t tell the admiral, please…!”

Rose steps forward. “There is a shipment with weapons leaving the Auril Sector in a couple of days. We need the exact date, the flight route, and the number of the transporter.”

“I’ll tell you!” the captain cries. “It’s on the twenty-fourth, taking the third revised Perlemian Route, past the Hapes Cluster. It’s a T-8463 transporter, the post-reform type!”

Rose looks at Poe, who gives her a wide grin. “We will have to confirm that your information is correct. If it turns out to be wrong and we get into trouble because of you, your life is forfeit. But if you told us the truth, we will let you go unharmed as soon as our mission is done.”

“Please,” the man sobs, eyes still glued to the badge in Poe’s hands.

He slips the badge into his breast pocket. “Admiral Hux will not learn of your cooperation. As far as he is concerned, you kept your mouth shut and defended the FO valiantly.”

“Thank you.” The captain nearly starts crying. “Thank you!”

“One more question, though. Hux used to be a general. Why was he demoted?”

Behind him, Rose huffs out an annoyed breath.

The captain stares at him with a confused frown. “Admiral Hux? I don’t know, a lot of people got demoted after the war. Others got promoted. I think it was an internal affairs matter.”

“So you know nothing else about what happened with him after Exegol?”

“Poe,” Rose interrupts him sharply.

He ignores her. “Where he went or what the Emperor said about him?”

“I- I don’t know anything. I never served under General Hux, I only met him today for the first time.”

Rose tugs at his sleeve. Reluctantly Poe allows her to drag him from the room.

“You’re obsessing again,” she admonishes him as soon as they are outside. “You need to let it go. Hux is alive and he’s back to trying to kill us, what more do you need to know?”

He scratches his head. “Something just doesn’t add up. What happened in those three years? Where was he?”

“Who cares? Probably somewhere out in the Galaxy oppressing innocent civilians. Get a grip, we need you focused.”

“Yeah.” He raises both hands and steps back from her scowl. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. You’ve got my focus.”

They leave the warehouse behind with only the guards remaining. After weeks of plotting, victory finally feels so close Poe can taste it. This time it will work. Once they have freed the rest of their crew, they can go after bigger fish.

After their defeat on the Battle of Exegol, the Resistance fell apart. Leia was gone, most likely dead. Their allies surrendered to the overwhelming power of the Final Order. Palpatine reinstated himself as the Emperor and erected his regime on all the larger planets in the Core of the Galaxy. Ever since, he has been ruling with an iron fist, hunting down every group and every tribe that tried to defy his rule, forcing the weak and poor into his labour camps to fuel his army and his trade consortium, all while expanding ever further. Coruscant remained autonomous for a while, but soon the government ceded.

Now the Emperor sits on his home planet in Naboo, which has been transformed to his desire. The gungans have been mostly eradicated; the remaining survivors have vanished without a trace. The monarch is nothing more than the Emperor’s puppet. Naboo has become one of the wealthiest planets in the Galaxy, but most of its inhabitants suffer in poverty and oppression.

More planets would have stood up against Palpatine, Poe is sure of that, if it weren’t for his army of Starkillers; mobile, indestructible, and capable of pulverizing any planet within a matter of hours. For the first year and a half, all he and the rest of the Resistance could do was hide and pray not to be found, while Palpatine’s soldiers hunted them down ruthlessly. For the longest time they had no hope in their cause left.

Then, however, unrest grew. People got sick of the oppressive violence of the FO. Old allies contacted them, money started flowing. It was Rose who found him and asked him to return, a question he did not even have to ponder. Nothing much has changed in the past months since they resumed their fight, but they are growing. The FO has begun to take them more seriously. And so they fight on.


	2. Why did the hipster burn his mouth on pizza? Because he ate it before it was cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since people love to use lyrics and poem lines as chapter titles, I’ve decided I can use terrible puns. All these puns have been carefully copypasted from the internet and have absolutely nothing to do with what’s going on in the chapters.

Threatening the captain with Hux’s wrath proved effective enough to give them everything they needed. After they learned the transporter code, attacking it at its weak spots was easy and five days later they have an entire shipment of brand new Final Order weapons in their possession. Since the Transitory Mists with their ionizing qualities are sitting right there, Rose and Jannah activate their allies with the Hapes pirates and use the mists to store the shipment in small batches where the Emperor will never find it.

“All right, now to plan the prison escape,” Rose greets Poe in the conference chamber on their ship back to Coruscant. “I want it to happen soon, fast, and quiet.”

“What about that prison guard?” He leans over the map projected on the table. “You said you could bribe one of the guards.”

“Yeah, but he’s only temporary staff. He doesn’t have much power. We either take over the whole prison with force, or we sneak inside and get the keys.”

“How about a prison riot?” Jannah asks.

They keep hatching plans until they reach Coruscant. Their first destination leads them to the warehouse where they hold their two prisoners. In less than twenty-four hours the whole district will be fumigated and even though the warehouse should be secure, neither of them wants to be around after the toxins have been released.

“I’m so glad we’re getting rid of those two,” Jannah says as they trudge the last metres towards the door. “I don’t like having to worry about-”

Rapid blaster fire shuts her up. Poe stretches out his hands. From the top window of the warehouse lights flash up, then another shot.

“Hide,” he whispers. “And keep your guns ready.”

Alone he sneaks to the entrance, presses against the wall, and slowly stretches out his hand towards the door handle. The door flies open. Hux, blaster in hand, bolts outside, sees him, raises his blaster-

Poe punches him straight in the face and sends him flying backwards. He sets after Hux, blaster ready, but not cocked, when Hux rolls around and lands a kick to his knee. The force sends Poe stumbling back. He cocks his gun and tries to aim, when Hux jumps up and lands another kick against his wrist. The blaster drops.

He charges forward, slams Hux into the warehouse wall, wrestles for his blaster. Hux elbows him in the stomach hard enough to make him double over and gasp for breath. When he looks up, a looks straight into the blaster barrel aimed at his forehead.

“Stop!” a voice behind him cries. “Don’t shoot, or we’ll kill you!”

Hux’s eyes flutter from Poe to the two women behind him, who must by now have drawn their own weapons. For a few seconds he stands still, panting, uniform dirty from the ground, hair dishevelled. He looks ready to shoot, only held back by Jannah’s threat.

“Hux,” Poe says quietly and Hux’s eyes snap back to him. “It’s all right, they won’t shoot. Let me turn on my communicator so I can tell them to take it easy, all right? Just reaching for my com, switching it on…”

He keeps his eyes on Hux, meeting his stare, not moving a muscle besides his fingers as they flick the com switch. There is rage there, but also panic. Hux does not intend to die today.

From this close Poe can see the shadow of his beard where he didn’t shave for five days. Ragged like this he looks much more human all of a sudden. His breath comes in short, hot puffs gusting over Poe’s cheek. A streak of blood draws across his jaw.

“Ladies,” Poe says in his normal voice, “don’t shoot. I’m all right, nothing is going to happen. Hux. You can go. We won’t hold you, we were going to release you anyway. Lower your blaster and go, no one is going to stop you or come after you. Just leave.”

Hux keeps staring at him, lips curled in distrust.

“If you leave, no one will harm you. But shoot me and I can’t guarantee your safety. This is a dumb thing to die over. I don’t want to die over this and neither do you.”

Hux presses his lips together.

“I’m unarmed. I won’t attack you. Lower your blaster.” He does not move his eyes away from Hux’s for even a second.

“I am keeping the blaster,” Hux hisses, but he lowers it until it points at Poe’s shoulder.

“Keep the blaster. I’ll step back and let you pass, all right? You can go.”

Hux thrusts out his hand. “My badge.”

“Your- oh, your badge. I got it in my breast pocket, I’ll get it out, okay?”

When Hux does not answer, Poe reaches into his pocket, fishes out the admiral badge, and drops it into Hux’s hand.

“There. We good?”

Hux closes his fist around the badge. “Next time I see you, I’ll kill you.”

Poe does not answer, merely raises an eyebrow at him. He steps aside. Blaster still pointed towards him Hux walks around him, then inches back sideways, eyes flitting between Poe and the two women, who stand behind a wall of rubble with their own blasters aimed at Hux. Only when he has passed them and they have lowered their weapons does he turn around and vanish.

“Life scanner,” Poe says to the women. “Make sure he leaves.”

“I’ll stay out here,” Jannah says. “You check the situation inside.”

For the first time since the stand-off started, Poe heaves a deep sigh of relief. He sets out towards the warehouse with Rose.

“Shit.” She holsters her gun. “That was close. You did really well out there.”

“You sound surprised. Still don’t trust me?”

“I know you, you don’t know how to de-escalate. You always need to provoke. So I’m really glad that this time you managed to stay calm and not needle him unnecessarily.”

“Rose, I do have some survival instincts.”

“Not what I have seen so far.”

In the entrance hall Sal lies groaning on the ground, holding his bleeding stomach. They kneel down at his side and Rose moves away his hand to look at the wound.

“Sal, what happened?” she whispers and pulls a can of med spray from one of her myriad pockets. “Shhh, it’s alright, you’ll live. The wound is shallow.”

“He tricked me,” Sal grunts. “Oldest trick in the book. Told me he could give me more intel on the base if only I loosened his cuffs. He was in pain, said he could barely breathe because of an old wound. He has this scar on his chest, big, nasty thing.” Sal takes a rattling breath when Rose closes the wound in his side. “I felt sorry for him, so I opened the cuffs for a moment… next thing he’s beat me down and taken my blaster. He shot- I think he killed the captain.”

Rose snaps up her head and stares at Poe, who jumps up and runs into the room where they held the captain. The door has been blasted open. The captain is hanging in his chair, chest open and bleeding, eyes wide and lifeless. To make sure Poe feels his pulse.

“Dead,” he says as he returns to Rose.

“Damn,” she whispers. “We need to get Sal out of here and leave. Quick, before Hux returns.”

“Yeah, let’s go. What about the captain?”

“We can’t take him along. The FO will take care of him.”

“Hux fucking shot him dead. His own captain, right in the chest.”

“See, that’s why I didn’t want to take him along in the first place.”

They heave Sal to their ship, call for Jannah and take off.

“He left,” Jannah says once they shoot through the air. “But even if he won’t find anything at the warehouse, he knows now that we’re on Coruscant. He’ll try to smoke us out.”

Rose nods. “We need to break camp for a while, get back to Hoth. Freeing the prisoners now is too risky. We lay low for a couple of weeks, until Hux is busy or gone, then we try again.”

“You need to pull everyone out of Coruscant,” Poe says. “The whole Resistance.”

“Yeah, I know. We’ll leave today.”

“What about you?” Jannah asks. “Are you staying?”

He nods. “Someone has to observe the situation on the ground and I have the most reason to stay. I’ll keep you updated.”

Rose frowns at him. “Poe, if they find you-”

“They won’t. I’ve managed to hide from them for three years; I’ve gotten good at it. You need me down here.”

She nods reluctantly. “If anything happens, we won’t be able to come to your rescue. You’ll only have the remote informants.”

“I know, don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

She grabs his arm and stares him down. “Poe, be careful. Hux is vicious.”

He frees his neck from his shirt to flash her the set of scars he carried away from his first encounter with Hux in the torture chair. “Trust me, I know.”

***

Within three hours the entire Resistance is gone from Coruscant, leaving Poe behind as their lone watchman. Rose has given him strict orders. Stay away from the control base, run the other way the moment you see Hux or any of the stormtroopers, do nothing, talk to no one, don’t even touch his blaster. Her concern is endearing, but suffocating.

Poe knows that she is right in everything she says, but he still needs answers to so many questions. Two days after the Resistance has left, he is back at the control base. He uses a quaint little café on the second floor of a corner brick building overgrown with vines to watch the comings and goings of stormtroopers and officers for as long as the barista suffers him. He tips well for his coffee, even though the amounts of caffeine leave him buzzing.

It’s not his fault that the perfect opportunity presents itself not three days later. One of their informants relays talk from the control base to him, of a prisoner to be taken into the base for questioning. A member of the Resistance, transported in a single car to arrive on the evening of the thirtieth day of the month. In order not to attract attention to the prisoner transport, the car will not be an official FO vehicle, but a regular cargo truck accompanied by only two men.

He considers telling Rose of his plan, but she would order him to leave it alone, so he hatches it on his own. It’s laughably simple. He will use the same strategy as last time; catch them in a smoke bomb to knock them out, get out the prisoner, and run before they can pursue. Hide away in one of the safe houses in the western Tinkerer’s Slope, renowned for their maze-like streets, underground hide-outs, and deep-seated distrust of any authoritarian government.

Poe waits for the car several blocks away from the base, perched on top of a roof, mask drawn over his face. The truck rounds the corner at normal speed, then halts at the red traffic light. Poe drops the grenade. Within ten seconds the entire crossing is smoking, not even the car visible anymore. He jumps down from the roof, hurries to the truck, and slams open the heavy bolts locking the door. While in the front the driver is screaming, Poe mounts the back.

Heat-vision goggles over his eyes he looks around. There should be at least one or two guards and the prisoner, but the goggles don’t register any life form. He taps them, flips the switch, but nothing. A creaking from the rear end makes him turn around, just in time to see two people from outside stand at the doors and throw them shut.

Poe bolts to the doors and throws himself against them. They don’t budge. The car rumbles, then starts driving. He stares wildly around the trunk, trying to make sense of the whole matter, when it hits him.

A trap. They laid a trap for him. The truck is going to deliver him to the control base and to Hux like a cupcake on a silver platter.

_Oh, you want to play it this way, honey? Fine, let’s play._

Months ago they captured one of these trucks and took it apart. Ever since, Poe has known of its one little weakness that he now sets out to exploit. He pulls a knife from his belt and levers plating off the floor in the right corner closest to the driver. Underneath there is a small hatch, bolted shut. Fingers working fervently, desperate to finish before they arrive, Poe loosens the bolts with the knife, then opens the hatch to free a whole bundle of cables, one of which is light green. The breaking cable. Poe cuts it.

The moment he is done, he jumps up and heads to the door, where he grabs the handle to hold himself in place. The truck is driving below the speed limit, which is still 60 kmph. The impact would slam him across the room and likely break his bones. The car rounds a corner, sways. By now the driver must notice something is off, but still they accelerate, before a cry shrills from the driver’s compartment and the truck starts careening to the left, nearly yanking Poe’s arm from its socket.

With a crash the truck hits something sturdier than itself outside, sending Poe flying from the door halfway across the trunk room, but at least he held on long enough to have cushioned his landing. The walls of the truck distort. One of the doors breaks off its hinges with a creak.

Blaster drawn, Poe jumps off. Five stormtroopers lie scattered around the street; the truck must have smashed straight through their line and then continued its rampage into the security wall around the control base. All stormtroopers are groaning and flailing, not a single one able to stand up, so Poe uses the moment of confusion to bolt.

“Stop!” a voice cries behind him.

He shoots while he turns, hits Hux’s cheek, makes him flinch back for half a second, and uses that second to jump between two street posts, then into a narrow side alley. As he emerges on the other side and runs down the deserted street into the maze of back-alleys of Trader’s Bottom, steps patter behind him. A shot whirs past his ear.

A wooden fence to his left, leading further into the maze. He scales it, jumps down the other side. As he runs on, he listens to the footsteps behind him. Only one set. If he gets far enough away, he could-

Another shot, this time singeing his left arm, leaving a tear in his jacket and a sharp pain in his flesh. He rounds two more corners, jumps between garbage cans into a deserted parking lot, then up another wall into a little park with lots of trees. There he hides in the darkness, waiting, killing his own panting to hear his pursuer.

He arrives promptly, blaster drawn, squinting in the dim light of a single remote street lamp. Stalking forward like a lynx, Hux approaches the tree Poe uses for hiding step by step. Leaves crunch under his boots.

Above their heads an owl hoots. Hux tears up his blaster and sends a shot into the treetop. The owl flutters up and away, while Hux sighs out his breath, then turns around to walk back to the street.

Silently, Poe sneaks after him, reaches him at the park wall, grabs his collar, and slams him into the wall. Quick as lightning Hux shoves an elbow into his throat. All air leaves him; he staggers back coughing while Hux raises his blaster. As the shot goes off Poe ducks, grabs Hux’s wrist, and twists it until Hux lets go of the blaster with a cry. He presses further, shoves Hux into the wall, draws his knife, and sets it to Hux’s throat.

At once Hux raises his chin. Motionless, eyes following Poe like a hawk, he stands, knife pressing into his skin just enough to leave an imprint. His blaster lies on the ground while Poe is keeping his in the hand that pushes Hux into the wall.

They stare at each other, inches apart. Hux is back in a clean uniform, shaved and manicured, his hair perfectly gelled back, his usual disdainful sneer curling his lips. For a second his eyes drop from Poe’s, follow down the rugged line of his cheek to the stubbles of his beard, mouth parted, panting hot breath. From there they trail to his throat and the v-line opening of his shirt, before they drag back up.

“Like what you see?” Poe whispers. He moves his arm from Hux’s chest long enough to grab his com link, yank it loose, drop it to the ground, and stomp down on it. Then he returns his grip on Hux. “What am I gonna do with you, now that I got you?”

Hux inhales a shuddering breath. “Where is the rest of your crew?”

He fits the volume of his voice to Poe’s. How considerate of him.

“What crew?” Poe murmurs and leans closer. “Tonight you got me all to yourself, baby. Everyone else is gone.”

Hux scoffs.

“What, you thought this was your big break? Capture the entire Resistance with a single little trick? I should have known you’d try. You want me so badly…” He moves the knife from Hux’s throat, trails it up his jaw to his cheek. “You can’t help yourself around me.”

“Either kill me or let me go,” Hux rasps. “I have no patience for your games.”

“How’d you get that scar?”

Hux’s eyes widen. “What scar?”

“The one on your chest.”

“What do you know about that scar?” For the first time real fear tints his voice.

Poe lowers the knife back to his throat. “You didn’t manage to kill Sal. What did they do to you, tiger?”

“Nothing,” Hux snaps, eyes flashing anger. “None of your business.”

“Does it hurt to breathe?”

“I was deceiving your guard. Doesn’t mean it’s real.”

“The scar is real, isn’t it?”

“And what’s it to you?”

Poe moves the arm pushing Hux into the wall. He locks his blaster, then holsters it, before he takes Hux’s wrist and presses it against the stone in a grip hard enough to leave bruises. He keeps his eyes on Hux’s face as he trails the knife from Hux’s throat down towards his collar.

“Who was it?”

“Nobody,” Hux whispers.

The fabric parts with a rasp under the blade. Black pops open to reveal white skin underneath. Poe cuts through the shirt, deeper, until he reaches the belt. When Hux utters a shuddering exhale, he lays the knife back to his throat, lets go of his wrist, and pulls the torn shirt apart.

A blaster shot, old, at least two years if not more. A star-like scar, fanning outwards from its deep, veiny centre in the middle of Hux’s chest. Tendrils of scar tissue curling around his torso, cutting through his left nipple, reaching down to his abdomen. It’s huge and nasty.

Poe takes a deep breath. “How are you still alive?”

“Disappointed?” If Poe hadn’t pricked up his ears, he’d have overheard the tremor in Hux’s voice.

“Concerned.” He looks up, meets Hux’s eyes. “Who did this to you?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you saved my life and then vanished for three years. Now you show up again, the same man as always, but with a new scar.”

“How do you know it’s new? How do you know I didn’t have it already when you saw me last?”

“Did you?”

Hux does not answer. Lips pressed together in cold defiance, the blue of his eyes flashing in the wan street light, he pins Poe under his gaze.

“Who would dare,” Poe mumbles.

He follows one of the twisting vines with his index finger towards the centre. Rough skin radiating heat, Hux’s chest expanding and falling with his breaths.

“What are you doing,” Hux whispers and it rumbles in his chest, translates into tiny tremors straight into Poe’s finger.

He does not answer, but keeps tracing the scar. The veins in the centre bulge under his hand. When he finds the heartbeat drumming against the ribs, he keeps his palm in place.

“Stop,” Hux utters, more breath than voice.

Poe looks up, meets his eyes. Rubs a thumb across his skin and feels him tremble.

“Dameron.” His voice has pitched to a new high. It’s more pleading than commanding now. Eyes bright, cheeks flushed, he still makes no move to fight Poe off and free himself.

Poe holds his eyes while he traces the scar across the left side of his chest towards the nipple, follows the nasty cut right through it, thumbs it. It grows hard under his touch.

Hux shakes his head, then gasps when Poe trails the nail of his index finger over his nipple again. A noise escapes his throat, tiny, suppressed. Poe repeats the stroke, pinches the hard little nipple between index finger and thumb and licks his lips. Like drawn to a red target, Hux’s eyes drop to his mouth, then flutter close. His head hits the wall behind him.

Time to take a little risk. Poe lowers the knife from Hux’s throat. When Hux does not react by attacking, he sheathes it and lays his hand into Hux’s neck instead. While his exploring fingers wander across his chest to find the right, unscarred nipple, he steels his grip around Hux’s neck to make sure he cannot simply move away.

Hux opens his eyes. His gaze rakes down Poe’s face, his chest, and leaves a trail of blazing fire in its wake. Unthinking, Poe takes a step closer, crowds into Hux. Hands come up to his hips, push at him for an instant, then curl into his shirt.

He smiles. He knows it’s predatory when he catches Hux’s eyes widen, flutter away, then return, yearning. His fingers have found their target, pebbled just as hard as the left one, lovely to play with. When Poe rubs a rough palm over it Hux exhales a shuddering sigh, moves in, then, an inch before Poe’s face, jerks away.

Cute. He’s cute, actually, Poe thinks while he releases the poor, overstimulated nipple and moves deeper, allows his fingers to chase the vines of the scar across Hux’s abdomen. He waits for Hux to stop him, to finally realize that Poe is not threatening with a weapon anymore, but instead one of the hands that have wound into his shirt moves from his flank and presses into his stomach.

With a chuckle, Poe leans forward. On the last inch, Hux finally moves. His mouth presses against Poe’s, tongue shoved all the way into his mouth, thrusting into him, ravenous. In response Poe takes the last step forward to cram Hux into the wall. Fingers leave his shirt, grip his butt, pull him closer, pull him into Hux’s hips rolling against his, rubbing Hux’s bulge against Poe’s own aching cock.

He kisses and gropes, feeling expanses of Hux’s flesh under his fingers, feeling his body move against his, reacting to his touch with urgent hunger, and he finally allows himself to admit how long he has been yearning for this. When Hux’s lips leave his mouth and travel along his jaw down his throat, sucking his skin between teeth, licking long stripes of sweat from his beard stubbles, scraping against his collarbone, he groans. He lets Hux explore his skin, rip open his shirt and press kisses to his chest, lets him bite his nipples and bury his nose into his chest hair, running fingers down Hux’s flank, trailing them up his arse, following the perky curve right to where the belt begins.

Still in his uniform and blazes, what Poe would give to be able to rip it off. He whispers it in Hux’s ear, pulls him back up, kisses him raw, and bites his earlobe before he murmurs to him, voice rolling like thunder.

“Know what I wanna do to you?” He licks a long stripe along his earlobe, digs his fingers into Hux’s arse. “Peel you out of your layers, throw you on the ground and muss up that perfect hair of yours. I wanna hook your legs over my shoulders and suck you and then fuck into you until that sneer of yours is gone and all your composure is ravaged away and all that’s left of you is messy hair and kiss-red skin and a voice so filled with pleasure it cannot snarl anymore, only moan my name.” Hux inhales a shuddering breath and exhales on a whimper. “You’re lucky I have neither the time nor the lube.”

And the noise that escapes Hux’s throat before he can snatch it back is pure disappointment. It leaves Poe so hot his voice up and vanishes.

Before he can recover, Hux’s fingers have found his belt buckle, flicked it open, and snuck inside. Poe has barely registered what is going on when they close around his cock, explore it from root to tip, then start jerking him fiercely.

His knees give. He nearly sinks to the ground where he stands, punched out by arousal. He must be dreaming, but no, this is Admiral Hux, kissing him, sucking on his bottom lip, gripping his cock and squeezing it so hard he can barely follow. When he moans, Hux licks it from his teeth.

Poe catches himself, starts working on Hux’s belt, fails. Whatever this buckle is, his heat-addled brain cannot figure it out. When he starts tearing at the belt with an impatient whine, Hux snorts half a laugh and graciously comes to his aid with his free hand. The hand that is not busy jerking him off. The buckle falls open with a flick of his finger, then Hux grabs Poe’s wrist and leads him to his cock, hard and ready. Poe obeys.

He follows Hux’s rhythm, or tries to copy it as good as he can. It’s fast, gives him a delightful little rub when it reaches the tip, spreading pre-cum around the head. He follows, barely able to make up the head space needed because Hux is everywhere, invading him. His tongue is still exploring Poe’s skin along his jaw, his whole body pressing into his, his scent filling Poe’s nose, the noises he makes with every stroke enough to finish Poe on their own.

It’s quick and dirty and everything he ever wanted and not enough by a light year. Before long he starts shivering, pleasure building uncontrollably, and when Hux bites his neck, he comes in hard, quick spurts into his pants. Hux keeps stroking him through, then pulls out his hand.

For a minute, Poe stands motionless, gasping for breath, trying to wrap his mind around what just happened. Hux licks a speck off his hand, eyes fluttering close for a moment, then catches himself and wipes the rest off on Poe’s shirt. Only then does Poe realize that the cock in his hand is still hard. He starts moving again, more focused now.

Hux’s eyes close as he falls back against the wall, hands resting on Poe’s waist, hips stuttering a bit with the twists of Poe’s palm. When Poe kisses his mouth, he opens up and allows him inside. For minutes his ragged breath ghosts around Poe’s ears while he jerks silently, trying to apply all his skills, waiting for a hint that his efforts show any effect. Finally, Hux’s hand comes up and pushes at his chest.

“Stop.”

He slows down, unhappy. “I can go on.”

“Let go.”

“Or give you head instead. I’m good at that.”

“Dameron.”

He searches Hux’s eyes, meeting his with sincerity.

“It’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know myself. Let go.”

Reluctantly, he withdraws his hand. Everything about this was perfect until a minute ago, but now Hux is pushing him away and closing up his trousers and refusing to explain to him what he did wrong and how to do it right.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes to mind, so he just stands there gaping like an idiot. Hux sees him and shakes his head with a huff. He lays a hand on his neck, presses a long, deep kiss onto his mouth, then bends down and reaches for his belt.

Poe’s mind follows too slowly. He barely registers what is happening when Hux grabs his blaster, still lying next to him, straightens up and shoots. In the last instant, he reacts on instinct. The shot singes his shoulder. He jumps back, kicks Hux’s knee, then runs. With a curse, Hux follows and shoots again, but Poe has vanished between the trees.

Shots ricochet off of tree trunks and make night fowl flutter up with indignant screeches. Poe scales the park gate, jumps down the other side, and scrambles across the street over two large garbage containers into another side alley. He runs until he ends up at the Mace Windu Memorial. There he takes the stairs down towards the underground bullet train and travels to Shinku Station. In the labyrinth of the giant traffic hub with its millions of people he sits down in a tiny pub that overlooks the fountain plaza and waits to see if Hux has followed him.

For over two hours he watches the crowd, but no Final Order officer in a torn shirt and dishevelled hair appears. Finally Poe leaves the pub and makes his way to a small 24-hour living support station where he rents one of the shower cells that comes with a washer. He stuffs his clothes into the machine, then steps under the shower to scrub every trace of Hux from his skin. After he has dried himself, he uses the med kit stashed under the washer to bandage up his arm where Hux’s blaster left him bleeding. By the time he is done his clothes are clean and dry.

He leaves the station and takes the street car to the eastern Tinkerer’s Slope. From the station he walks along the shopping streets with their gaming arcades, their full-immersion cinemas, and their household droids. At an old music store selling used instruments he stops, punches a code into the door and opens it. Through the store into the storage room in the back. He walks up to the guitar hanging at the wall next to a large closet and plucks the A string.

With a creak the closet slides aside and reveals a narrow staircase leading underground. Poe walks down the first three stairs, then presses a button in the wall. Above him the closet returns to its old position. In the dim light of flickering ceiling tubes Poe climbs down the stairs until he reaches another door. He opens it and steps into the living space behind.

A table packed with scrolls and intelligence gathering equipment. An unmade bed in one corner, barely large enough for two persons. A closet for clothes, a kitchen booth on the other side of the room, a door leading into the bathroom. In the kitchen stands a man, head lowered over the stove, working on something sizzling that fills the room with the pleasant scent of spiced meat.

When Poe enters, Finn turns around. “There you are.” He steps away from the stove and comes up to Poe to press a kiss to his lips. “I was beginning to get worried.”

“It got dicey, but I’m okay.”

“I’ll say.” Finn grabs his arm and looks at the cut frowning. “Didn’t you say there was no way you’d get hurt this time?”

“I know, I miscalculated, but I’m okay. Starving, actually.”

“Come on, come to the table. Let me look at it.”

Poe follows Finn to the table. With a huge swipe, Finn frees up some space, then brings their med kit over.

“I already cleaned it,” Poe says.

“Let me look at it again.” Finn motions him to take off his shirt and undoes the bandage. “Poe, this is a blaster wound. And you got another bruise on your throat, what the hell happened? You tried to take them on alone, didn’t you?”

Poe’s hand snaps up to his throat where Hux definitely did not hit him with his blaster. “One of the guys followed me and beat me up. It’s okay, I gave back as good as I got.”

“Who?” Frowning, Finn cleans out the wound with a burning tincture.

“Some FO officer. I didn’t know him.” When a sharp pain shoots through his arm, Poe yanks away with a hiss.

“It’s just disinfectant, stop moving. This is what you get when you don’t wait for backup.”

“I got careless. I’ll do better next time.”

“Next time, you promised me there would be no next time.”

“When Rose returns.”

Finn’s grip around his arm turns hard. “They almost killed you. How many more times does this have to happen until you realize you either die in this fight or you surrender?”

“I can’t just retreat now, Finn, we’re so close-”

“Of course you are, you always are.” Finn looks up at him, dark brown eyes piercing into his. “You know, you haven’t changed a bit. Still trying to play the hero, regardless of who gets hurt.”

Poe grits his teeth. “I am doing it to set things right.”

“If Rey was here she’d tell you to stop being so damn stubborn. You can’t set things right if everybody’s dead.”

“Well, Rey isn’t here, so it’s up to me to save everyone, isn’t it.”

“Then stop putting other’s lives into unnecessary danger! How many have you recruited since you and Rose started again? You’re not looking to end this fight, you need this fight, you need it to feel like you’re the hero everybody looks up to!”

“They do! Okay? They need me, because if I don’t step up, nobody will!”

“They don’t need you!” Finn jumps up. “They need peace and quiet. You’re the one dragging everybody back. I have buried enough friends, Poe! Are you only going to be happy when you’ve buried Rose and me, too?”

He flinches back as though struck. “That is so unfair.”

“Then tell me I’m wrong!”

“You’re wrong. You’re wrong, I’m not doing this to kill anyone, I only-”

“No, of course not! It’s only collateral damage, never planned! If you actually cared about us, about me, you wouldn’t be doing this, taking things from me! I have waited my whole life to have an actual live and now I can’t even have a sliver of it, because all you do is take and take and take!”

He closes his eyes, steels himself against the onslaught of guilt. “I am trying to give you a life. One that isn’t hiding away in an underground bunker so we don’t get taken prisoner or killed by a regime that wants to see us dead.”

“We could leave. Go somewhere where they don’t know us. Start anew. But you’re too stubborn to even consider that.”

“I have. Trust me, Finn, I have. I’m not doing this because I love fighting to much.”

Finn scoffs.

“No, really. You want to know my secret? I’m afraid. Every day I go out there I’m terrified. Of getting someone else killed, of dying myself, of this being the day that I have to admit that we have no chance of winning left. But I can’t quit because-” Tears shoot into his eyes. This is not how he expected this evening to go. “I’ve got nothing else left. They’ve taken everything from me and I’ve given up everything for this fight and if I quit now-”

“And what about what I’m giving up?” Finn has stemmed both hands into his side, glaring at him, refusing to give him an inch. “I’ve given up my damn life, my career, so I wouldn’t have to deal with that shitty order anymore, and now you do everything to drag me back! All I ever wanted was to get away from the killing, yet here I am, sitting in the middle of it all, for you! We are living here because you need to be here! I am doing all this for you, keeping the home safe, earning the money, patching you up every time you nearly lose a limb, because that’s what you want! When is it my time?”

Poe hangs his head. “I never asked you to do all this for me.”

“You want me to leave?” Finn stumbles back. “You want me to give up on you?”

“No- please, Finn, I need you. I need you here. I’ll find a way, I’ll stay safe, maybe we can- I don’t know, have a vacation or something.”

“A vacation,” Finn snorts. “Right, because that’s something we can afford.”

“I told you, you don’t need to work that bar. Rose can get us money-”

“Of course Rose can get us money. Where do you think it comes from? Rose knows who makes money out of this war, she knows who funds people like the Resistance. She knows the weapons dealers want to keep the fight going because as long as the Resistance is still a threat, the FO will keep buying their weapons. She is taking money from the people who get rich on the FO murdering my friends!”

Poe raises his head. Every word from Finn’s mouth pierces him like a knife. “You don’t know that.”

“How stupid do you think I am? I was with them, I watched them tear the Galaxy to shreds. I am not going to play their game anymore. All I want is peace.”

“I am fighting for peace.” He refuses to raise his voice. He cannot turn this into another argument, not tonight. “I am not fighting for myself, but for everyone we’ve lost. Leia, she-”

“Leia is dead.” Finn lowers his head, jaw grinding.

“We never buried her.”

“She’s dead, Poe. She died and Rey died, too. I had to bury my best friend, I don’t want to bury my boyfriend! I don’t want you to join them because you-”

Finn breaks off. With two strides Poe is next to him, wraps both arms around him, holds him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, I don’t want you to die. We’ll find a way, all right? I’ll stay home the next few days, I’m all yours. Can you please trust me?”

Finn leans his head against Poe’s shoulder and sniffles. “I ruined it again, didn’t I? I was looking forward to spending some time with you, but now you’re pissed and it’s all because I’ve pushed you too hard again.”

“I’m not pissed, I promise. We’re good, right? Hey.”

He kisses Finn’s forehead, his eyelids. He doesn’t deserve this. This life, this man, this fragile peace. If he were a bigger man, he would come clean and leave, but the war broke him. Poe is no big man. He holds on to Finn and lets him believe for at least a moment that everything will be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:   
> No , I don’t hate Finn. I think the writers fucked up his characterization to the point that it’s simply not there and then decided to throw him under the bus in the dumpster fire that was ROS. Then fandom happened and the loudest Finn fans also happen to be one of the more, ahem, toxic parts of the SW fandom, which is saying something. I want to give him a good story and I think I’ve managed to do that in the second part of this fic, but as I’ve said in the tags, this won’t be a happy Finn/Poe thing. A lot of this story that’s not about porn is about trauma. Besides, every character in this fic is problematic, even the heroes. If you can’t handle that, you better stop reading now. 
> 
> On an unrelated note, this chapter might just be my favourite smut scene that I’ve ever written.


	3. The past, the present and the future all walk into a bar. It was tense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time we visited my in-laws, my mother in law gave us some homemade cereal bars that she claimed had a shelf life of at least a couple of months. Fast forward six days and the waifu informs me today that he bit into one of them and discovered furry mould on them, so he threw them away. Now, the moral I want you to take away from this story is this: When we were just starting going out over a decade ago, when he had yet to cook a single meal for himself or wash a single load of his own clothes, he showed me some homemade chocolate a friend had given to him that he had kept in his fridge. The chocolate had, I kid you not, an inch of bright green mould growing all over it. He showed it to me, then closed the lid and put it back in his fridge, so I went "Why do you put it back in your fridge, it's mouldy, throw it in the trash," and he was like "No it's not. I didn't see any mould." Impressive. Anyway, that's character development. That's growth. He now sees the mould.

For two weeks Poe behaves. Follows Rose’s commands for once and stays at home instead of running around looking for trouble. Finn seems happy at first. They avoid fights, skipping around every disagreement with the practiced steps of a couple who has done this dance for three years and counting.

After a couple of days it becomes harder. Bartending at the pub leaves Finn stressed. He comes home in the early morning hours, wakes Poe to complain about unwashed dishes or clothes lying on the floor, then falls into bed and sleeps until Poe stands up with his alarm clock. The alarm clock that guarantees a fight every time, because Finn needs his sleep and hates its sound and Poe needs to move or he will go crazy like a caged tiger.

Living in a tiny room with kitchen and bedroom in one means noise. Noise when Poe makes coffee and breakfast, noise when he eats while reading the news, noise when he washes the dishes so Finn won’t complain, and promptly catches himself a complaint about the clanking of plates and cups.

Poe endures for two weeks, before he begs Rose to give him work, but she leaves him on read. It can barely be counted as Poe’s fault that he finds himself back in the little corner café opposite the 78th base, watching the comings and goings of security officers as they patrol the streets.

Two days ago an incident in Lightbringer’s Square in the upper city of Coruscant, an altercation between a group of university students and several FO officers, caused an uproar in the city. The murder of two of the students has brought forward crowds of protesters clashing with the officers. The Emperor reacted swiftly, sent in stormtrooper units with heavy tanks and beat down the riots ruthlessly. After 97 deaths and several hundred arrests the people withdrew. Since then patrol has increased and barely an hour passes without reports of someone getting beaten down by officers.

Now Poe, who has joined several of the protests and watched the tanks smash into the crowd, once again find his thoughts swirling around one particular admiral who has not shown his face during the riots even once. Maybe he is busy elsewhere, or maybe some of the old doubts remain. If Rose were here she would warn him about obsessing too much, but more than ever he needs to know what happened to Hux after they left him behind before the Battle of Exegol.

Over several days of observation he has found out one curious fact about Hux. Every night between nine fifteen and nine fifty-five he leaves the base in a black jacket without insignia and walks towards the Mace Windu Memorial station. He does not return at least until café closing time at one a.m.

Tonight, Poe is waiting for him on top of a garage in a little side alley that offers the perfect shortcut to the station. Last night he watched Hux turn into the alley without so much as slowing down and all the while wrestling with a sleeve button; a sign that Hux is used to taking the shortcut. Maybe he even drops his guard a bit on his evening walk.

Eyes on the street, Poe waits. He has been hiding since eight thirty sharp to make sure he doesn’t miss it. The first hour passes without so much as a hoot. Two or three civilians take the alley, but after nine p.m. the curfew turns the streets into dead land. The new captain and her officers pass on their patrol, but since that first time Hux hasn’t joined them. They walk by the alley without affording it a single glance.

Ten minutes later Hux finally appears. He walks briskly, pulling gloves over his fingers while he strides past the garage. Silently, Poe lands on the street behind him, clasps his hand over Hux’s mouth and pulls him against his chest before Hux can react.

Hux startles, then instinctively tries to wrench himself free. Poe presses the barrel of his blaster into his side.

“One wrong move,” he murmurs into Hux’s ear, dropping his voice to make himself unrecognizable, “and you’re dead.”

Hux’s stops moving. His hands stop scrambling at Poe’s arm and drop to his side.

“That’s better,” Poe whispers with a drawl and walks Hux to the garage to pin him between the wall and himself. “Remember, one move, one squeak from you and I’ll rid you of your kidneys. Let’s see how long you survive without them. Do you understand me?”

Panting beneath his hand, Hux nods. Poe slowly eases the grip on his mouth and lowers his hand. When Hux stays silent he feels around Hux’s belt, finds the blaster, unhooks it and slides it into his own jacket, then pulls off the com-link and drops it on the street.

“That’s better.” He hooks one finger into Hux belt and gives him a poke with his blaster barrel. “Now walk. Try to run and I’ll let you live just long enough to regret it.”

As he pulls Hux away from the wall and prods him towards the station, he allows himself a little grin. Hux is keeping his composure admirably well, but there is still that tremor in his hand and the clipped way he walks now, unhappy with this development and probably cursing himself for being so careless.

As they round the corner he catches Hux trying to do a half turn and prods him again with the blaster. “Ah-ah-ah, no peeking. Look ahead and walk.”

“What do you want from me,” Hux hisses, but he walks where Poe directs him; past the station towards the shopping district where despite the curfew people are still bustling about.

“You’ll find out soon enough. In here.” Poe nudges him towards a dingy bar crowded with all kinds of shady folks that offers privacy in its publicity.

Hux huffs out a confused breath, but when Poe moves the blaster closer towards his spine, he walks through the door and to the only empty table at the back wall.

“That’s a good boy,” Poe murmurs in his ear. “Almost there. Sit down.”

Hux’s knees lock. He stares down at the seat, then tries to turn around again, but Poe clenches a hand around his arm and clucks his tongue.

“You don’t want to cause a scene in here, do you? Look around at all the disgusting scum in this place who would watch you die miserably, Admiral Hux.”

He shoves Hux into the chair, then holsters his blaster and sits down opposite him. Hux’s jaw drops. All colour drains from his face.

“Dameron,” he snarls, “what the fuck kind of game are you playing here?”

“Hey, babe. Fancy meeting you here.”

“I’m leaving.” Hux jumps up. His chair topples to the floor.

The moment he turns to stalk away, Poe snatches his wrist and pulls him back. “I just want to talk to you.”

“There is no talking.” Hux yanks his arm, but Poe refuses to let go. “Start running if you don’t want to be arrested and executed for disobedience.”

“Come on.” He gives Hux a little tug and earns himself a glare that is clearly trying to convey that if he does not let go of the hand, he will lose his own. Unfortunately for Hux, Poe has never had a good sense of self-preservation. He grips harder. “All I want is to ask you a question. What’s the harm?”

“The harm,” Hux hisses, “is that you are about to lose all your limbs, so either let me go-”

“Where were you going?”

“What?”

“Just now. You leave every night. There are sleeping quarters in the base and nobody else leaves, so where are you going?”

“Every night.” Hux stares down at him, his pale face almost translucent in the flickering wall lights of the pub. “Have you been stalking me?”

“Not stalking, just watching the base.”

“You’re obsessed. Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping on the base?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” Several patrons turn around to them. Hux takes a deep breath, eyes flitting to the other people, then back to Poe. “I like to separate work from personal life, so I got myself an apartment. Happy?”

“You’re allowed to do that?”

“It’s frowned upon, but not forbidden.”

“So wait, Admiral Hux, famous for the stick up his butt, decides to bend the rules a bit and do something that his superiors won’t like because he… wants some privacy?”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that I have questions. Come on, I’ll buy you a beer if you sit down and hear me out.”

Hux’s shoulders heave with an angry breath, but then he picks up his chair and drops down. Poe allows him to yank away his hand. “Whiskey, neat.”

Poe signals to the bartender.

“You have two minutes,” Hux says.

“I only need one. That was a lie, I need at least five. Give me five minutes, please.”

“Just talk, dammit.”

Poe takes a deep breath. “Do they know?”

“Know what?” Hux refuses to give him even an inch.

The bartender comes and sets down a bottle of beer and a glass with a finger of whiskey. Hux grabs the whiskey and empties it with one gulp, then slams the glass back on the table.

“Do you want that refilled?” the bartender asks.

“Yes,” Hux replies without taking his eyes off of Poe.

Poe sighs and pulls out more bank notes from his wallet. As soon as the bartender has refilled the glass and left, he leans forward. “Do they know that you, you know. Played for the other side.”

“Do they know that I’m gay? Why the fuck would they care?”

“Not that. You used to spy for us.”

Hux’s eyes narrow to slits. “You desperately need to work on your metaphors.”

“Do they know?”

“Why would I want them to know?”

“So they don’t. What happened, then?”

Hux throws his head back and groans. “That again. Can you let it go? You’re obsessed.”

“Of course I am. We left you behind and I thought we’d condemned you to death. I thought for sure you’d been found out and killed, do you have any idea how guilty I felt?”

“So you’ve decided to make your conscience my problem.”

“The first thing after we lifted off was Finn saying, ‘No way they’ll believe that dumb story. He’s going to die for that.’ And I almost turned back. I said we needed to get you out of there, but Finn wouldn’t let me. He said one decent deed didn’t make up for genocide, but it never left me. We should have come back for you.”

“What makes you think I would have come with you?”

“Come on. You can’t tell me they’d just forgive a traitor like that. We left you to die.”

“And I didn’t die.” Hux empties the glass again, then stands up. “No need to bother your conscience further. In fact, I am better off than ever before, so do me a favour and drop dead.”

He turns to leave.

“Must be uncomfortable, though,” Poe calls after him. “To know that there are still people out there who know the truth and could expose you at any time.”

Hux stops dead. Without looking back, he asks, “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Obviously. You don’t want me to tell your cronies what you used to do, do you? Answer my one question and I’ll leave you alone, promise.”

Hux stands still, shoulders rising and falling, fists clenched.

“I’ll buy you another scotch.”

“Not here.” His voice barely reaches Poe’s ears. “Too much audience.”

“You have a better suggestion?”

“Follow me.”

Poe stands up, leaves the payment on the table, and follows Hux out the door, along the boulevard towards Shinku station. Halfway there they enter another shopping district, this one overflowing with broken droids salvaged by engineers for their spare parts. Hux halts in front of a tall building, plain except for the painting of a hummingbird on its door, flashing its beautiful ruby red neck and its flamboyant turquoise plumage. Above the bird the pale golden letters _Colibri_ have almost completely flaked off into a dull grey.

When Hux enters the establishment and turns to the front desk manned by a serving droid, Poe offers a soft whistle. He lets Hux order a room while he looks around the tastefully dark and impersonal hotel lobby furnished with nothing but the reception desk and an elevator. No paintings, no chairs, no refreshments.

“Move,” Hux barks at him and shoves him towards the elevator.

“What name did you give them?”

“No name. This place allows you complete anonymity; why do you think I picked it?”

“Anonymity, huh?” Poe trails his hand along the wall of the third floor corridor, as undecorated as the reception. “I think I know what kind of establishment this is.”

“How fortunate for you. The rooms are soundproof and they have anti-surveillance equipment in place.”

“To make sure no adulterers can accidentally be caught by a spurned spouse, no doubt.”

Hux drags the key card through the scanner of the door number 306, pushes open the door and motions Poe with a jerk of his head to get into the room. As soon as they are inside, he shuts and locks the door, then stalks over to the dispenser, fills himself a new glass of scotch, and sits down at a round little table near the balcony window.

Poe walks around the room. The bed is big enough to hold three people at least. Tasteful lighting above the head provides a warm atmosphere. A glass cabinet next to the bed offers vials filled with viscous fluids of all colours and several boxes with condoms of all sizes, flavours, and ribbings. A closet, thin steel frame with tinted glass doors, holds a wider selection of more acquired tastes. Toys, ropes, leather harnesses. Poe raises his eyes to the ceiling to find hooks, even a winch in the wall to tie ropes to.

“Not bad.” He chuckles. “Is there a deeper meaning beneath you taking me here?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You wanted to talk and this place is secure. Sit down.”

Poe obliges with a sigh. It’s impossible to not be turned on by the fact that Hux decided to take him here of all places, especially after their last altercation. But since they have come this far, there is no harm in exercising a little patience.

He casts a pointed look at Hux’s scotch. “Can I get a beer?”

“Get your own beer.”

It was a long shot, anyway. He goes to get his beer, then takes his seat opposite Hux again.

“All right, spill. What happened after we left you behind?”

Hux has crossed his arms before his chest. He does not look at Poe, but at the golden whiskey swirling in his glass. “Do you need me to say it?”

“I really do, yes.”

“I was found out and shot.”

“In the chest. That’s where that scar is from.”

Hux inclines his head. “It didn’t kill me, though. Someone put me in a healing tank and that’s where I stayed until the whole Battle of Exegol was over. When I woke up we had won, Kylo Ren was dead, and the Emperor was ruling over the Galaxy once again.”

Poe sighs out on a slow exhale. “Must have been the best day of your life.”

Hux utters a mirthless laugh. “I was dragged before the Emperor. He turned my mind inside out and kept me like that for a couple of hours. I needn’t mention it was torture, plain and simple. When he was done with me, he said-”

He takes a deep breath. Not a muscle moves in his face, but his eyes shimmer. “He said, ‘You betrayed the First Order because you thought Kylo Ren was too weak to take it to greatness. Well, now that he is dead, you have the chance to prove you were right. I will give you another chance to serve me and bring us glory and I know you won’t betray me, because you know what happens to you if you do.’”

Poe leans forward, eyes glued to Hux’s face.

“He demoted me to ensign,” Hux says quietly. “Told me I had to earn my rank anew. So that’s what I have been doing for the past three years; worked myself back up to admiral.”

“So that’s it? He tortured you and now you’re his puppet? Is that really what you wanted?”

“Yes.” Hux raises his head and meets Poe’s eyes. “It is. How many times do I have to say it; I used you and your little group and you played your roles perfectly. I betrayed the First Order and I paid the price for that, but now the Emperor relies on me. I am a leader in the greatest power this Galaxy has ever seen. Does that answer your question?”

Poe brushes through his curls and scratches his ear. “I guess.”

“Good.” Hux stands up. “Can I go now?”

When Poe doesn’t answer Hux strides straight to the door. While Poe is still searching for something else to say, Hux stops without turning the lock.

“So that’s it?” he asks into the door. “You get your answer and just let me leave?”

Eyes closed, Poe trails his hand down the back of his head and his neck to his lap. A smile sneaks on his lips. He could have sworn Hux had more in mind when he brought him here, but leave it to Hux to actually manage to cross his own plans with his stubbornness. If Poe plays too blasé now, he will leave, but he doesn’t want to yet. Maybe he can afford to play a bit. Hux makes a delightful mouse and Poe is in cat mood.

“Well, you answered my question,” he drawls graciously, “so I don’t see any reason to stop you. Unless of course you want me…”

Hux scoffs.

“-to answer any questions of your own.”

Silence.

“Now is your chance.”

Without turning around, Hux says into the door, “Why are you still doing this?”

“Drinking my beer? Because I’m not finished yet.”

“Be serious. You lost, spectacularly so. Why are you still fighting if you know you can’t win?”

“Vexes you, doesn’t it?” Poe stands up. He takes step after step towards the door with leisure, no need to hurry. “Here you are, the whole Galaxy at your feet, and yet I still refuse to surrender to you. It would be easy, too. If I gave in and turned quiet and hid myself away for the rest of my life, I could evade the constant death threats and the violence and probably live quite peacefully.”

Hux’s shoulders rise and fall on hard breaths. “So?”

“How do you know I don’t do it exclusively to drive you out of your mind?” He halts a step behind Hux. “As long as you’re running after me, you don’t have time to oppress innocent, unarmed civilians, so I’m playing bait and you can’t resist me, so you follow me no matter how many times I trick you.”

Hux turns around with a scowl. “You’re still acting like this is a game to you.”

Poe laughs. “You’re furious, aren’t you? It drives you insane to know that you can’t just get me to comply. That I believe in a free Galaxy so strongly that I’m willing to fight to my last breath to make it happen. You want me at your feet so badly where you can walk all over me with those boots that look remarkably tight, how do you get out of those? But I won’t lie down and take it and that drives you insane.”

He takes another step and Hux’s eyes light up with rage.

“No matter how hard you try, you’re out of control when it comes to me.”

Hux backhands him. Knuckles collide with his cheekbone and snap his head to the side. His face burns up. This will leave a nice bruise for a couple of days.

Before he can respond, Hux grabs him by the collar, yanks him forward, and collides with his mouth. Urgent kisses that Poe returns by squishing Hux against the door and grabbing his waist to pull him in. Sharp pain flashes through his lip when Hux bites down on him, then licks the blood off and thrusts his tongue into Poe’s mouth.

Questing fingers find his shirt, tear it from his trousers, knead his stomach, then grope along his belt into his groin. When they grab for his cock hard enough to leave bruises, Poe catches his wrist and pulls them off.

“Easy, tiger,” he whispers. “Still need the merchandise to make you scream tonight; can’t have it damaged.”

Quick as a weasel, Hux yanks his wrist free and slaps Poe in the face. “How _dare_ you presume-”

“All right, that’s it, enough melodrama.”

He snatches Hux’s arm, drags him to the bed and throws him on the covers less than gracefully. Kicks off his boots and drops his jacket, then, before Hux has managed to sit up, grabs him by the neck and pushes him down. Finds his wrist again and twists his arm to his back, where he pins him into the covers. Hux struggles for a good minute, hissing and spitting, before Poe presses against his arse and nudges him with his bulge.

“Tell me what you want, tiger,” Poe breathes into his ear as he fumbles for the buttons on Hux’s shirt and pulls it off.

“I want you dead,” Hux snarls and lands a poorly aimed kick against Poe’s shin. “You and your entire pathetic little army!”

“Mmh, keep talking.”

He opens the belt, much more deftly now that he still has blood in his brain, and pulls down trousers and briefs, before the impossibly tight boots on Hux’s calves stop him. He treads at them with his feet, trying to get them to budge.

“The moment I find your hideout, I am going to lay waste to it! I will take every last one of you prisoner and kill you all, one after the other. And you I’ll keep for last and I’ll- stop kicking me, you oaf, use the clasp!”

Poe grunts in frustration. “There is no clasp.”

“Of course there is, let me-”

Hux pulls up one of his legs, fingers the inner rim of his boot with his free hand, and flicks open a clasp. The boot widens and Hux kicks it off.

Poe rewards him with an appreciative whistle. “Smart. You were talking about saving me for last.”

“You think this is a joke?” Hux hisses while Poe frees his other leg. “I’ll make you watch your friends die, painfully, one by one. I’ll make you beg for their lives!”

“Kinky.” He snakes out of his own pants, then opens the glass cabinet and takes out several of the vials. “Okay, so we have strawberry flavour, that looks cheap, no thank you. Antoinette’s, I’ve used that before, it’s okay I guess. Nothing fancy. And something called Golden Arc, uuuh, that looks nice. Classy. I’ll try that, all right?”

“I’ll make you fucking choose who to kill first, so you’ll have their deaths on your conscience!”

“Mhm.” Somehow he manages to squirt a generous amount of lube over his fingers with only one hand. He knees Hux’s legs apart and dips two fingers into the cleft of his arse. “What if I refuse to choose?”

“I’ll torture them. I- ah!” Hux gasps out when Poe pushes into him with his fingers. Eyes squeezed shut, he squirms in Poe’s grip, closing around Poe snug like one of his boots.

“Torture them, huh?” Poe breathes into his ear and thrusts deeper, opens him up quickly. He wants Hux to feel the stretch. “That’s mean, Hux, all just to take revenge on me. Why not kill me and be done with it?”

“Oh, I’ll kill you. I’ll- haaa… I’ll have you, hng, have you-”

“Shh,” Poe murmurs. He pulls out his fingers and wipes them off on a wet tissue.

Hux’s skin is flushed in a delightful shade of pink, goosebumps rising on his arms. The fingers of his free hand have twisted into the bed covers. He makes a half-hearted attempt to wrench his arm from Poe’s grip, then groans into the sheets.

With one hand Poe lines up his cock, then bends down to bring his mouth to Hux’s ear. “I love it when you dirty talk. Shows me how much I turn you on.”

Hux’s scoff turns into a moan when Poe presses into him, drives home in one fluid motion, pulls out again immediately, and pushes deeper. Hux, for all his token resistance, yields to him beautifully, lets him in and takes him from root to tip.

“How much you been wanting this?” He holds Hux still with a hand on his thigh and pounds down into him hard and fast, parts his cheeks to watch his cock slide in and pull out, revelling in the friction. “You wanted me that badly, all you had to do was tell me. Send a little message to the Resistance, just one line. _Come on my Destroyer and ravish me till I see stars_. That’s all.”

And maybe those were the magic words. Hux whines out and lets go of the sheets to bury his fingers into Poe’s thigh and pull him closer. When Poe pistons into him, he rolls his hips in response, squeezes down on him with the most delicious pressure.

Poe gasps. Before he can catch himself, he moans, pulls Hux closer, fucks him harder. Hux matches his thrusts with his own, works his cock until pleasure turns sharp and hot, almost painful, fingers bruising Poe’s thigh. Shivering from every bout of pleasure he wrenches from Poe’s body, gasping so loud he nearly drowns out Poe’s moans.

Pressure builds and demands release. Poe gropes for Hux’s cock pumping pre-cum into the sheets and jerks it roughly. Hux in his arms melts. Moaning into every thrust of Poe’s hips, and somehow his other arm has come free of Poe’s grip and winds around his neck, pulls him closer, hot mouth finding Poe’s throat and latching on, biting down on his skin and sucking him in.

He holds on as long as he can, painfully aware that Hux, for all the unbridled lust that seems to ravish him, hasn’t come yet. He holds on until pleasure turns to pain and his brain turns off. He stays as deep as he can, pumps straight into Hux’s arse, before he breaks down and rolls off.

For minutes he lies panting, too blissed out to move. Next to him Hux rolls around with a groan.

“Should’ve used a fucking condom. I’m going to be dripping for hours.”

“Yeah,” Poe mumbles, a stupid smile spreading on his face. “That’s why I didn’t use one. Can’t just wash off the evidence.”

“I’ll cut you open and gut you, how is that for evidence?”

“Shhh, baby, no more dirty talk. Let daddy sleep.”

When Hux goes for his throat with both hands turned into claws Poe holds him off, laughing. He pulls Hux on his stomach and gives him a playful slap on the buttocks that leaves Hux growling in anger. A bit more sincerely, he strokes his hand across Hux’s cock, still almost fully erect.

“You didn’t come.”

Hux wrenches himself from Poe’s grip and sits up on the edge of the bed. “No.”

“Come back. Let me finish you.”

“You can’t finish me.”

“Of course I can. I can get you off with fingers and mouth, no problem.”

“No, you can’t. I don’t come, at least not from this. Give it up.”

Poe sits up. “You want to do me? I’ll need a couple of minutes, but I can go again.”

Hux shakes his head, almost amused, and stands up. “As always you’re bull charging in the completely wrong direction. Let it go.”

He vanishes into the bathroom. A moment later the rushing of water tells Poe that he is showering. Before Poe can sort out his thoughts, he is done and returns to the room, heads straight for his clothes and pulls on his pants.

“Was it me?” Poe asks. “Was it something I did wrong?”

“No. You were… adequate. Give it up, Dameron.”

“Adequate, huh? Must’ve rocked your world to get praise as high as this from Admiral Hux. What is it then?”

He watches Hux button up his shirt. He is not fully hard anymore, but still flushed.

“You didn’t even finish off by yourself, did you?”

“No. I don’t orgasm, all right? It’s not my thing.”

“How can that not be your thing? Is it… is it because you can’t or because you don’t want to?”

“Hardly reckon wanting to or not would play a role,” Hux mutters. “Stop asking questions. This is my problem, not yours.”

“Let me try again.”

Hux steps into his boots and closes the clasps. “I have to go.”

“Not today. Another time.” Poe stands up. He leans against the wall right next to the door.

Hux shakes his head, grabs his blaster from Poe’s jacket and reaches for his coat. He stops in front of the door, head lowered, without looking at Poe, but doesn’t open yet.

“You feel it, too,” Poe urges. “You didn’t come here because of my weak attempt to blackmail you; you knew I couldn’t actually become dangerous to you. You can’t tell me you got everything you wanted from me from this one time.”

“Why is it-” Hux interrupts himself, bites his lip. He stares at the door, hand outstretched towards the handle.

“No one has to know.” Poe leans closer. “Out there, nothing changes. I fight you, you can try to kill me and fail every time. Anything that happens stays in here and has no consequences whatsoever on our lives out there. We don’t need to know anything about each other.”

“Like about potential partners we’re cheating on,” Hux says, eyes still on the door.

“Exactly,” Poe says. “You don’t care about that and neither do I.”

Hux shakes his head, lips pressed together.

“I want you,” Poe says, voice low. “In every way conceivable. Down on all fours, chained to the wall, screaming, crying, begging me. I want to suck your soul from your cock, I want to make you cum so often you can’t talk or move anymore, just moan, I want to make you forget what control over your own body feels like, only remember what it feels like when I’m inside you, making you take me, taste me, smell me. I want-”

“One week,” Hux interrupts him. He still refuses to look at him, but his ear has assumed a delightful shade of ripe cherry. “Same day, 2100 hours, same hotel, same room. If you come late, I kill you. If I see you out there in the meantime, I kill you.”

A grin spreads on Poe’s lips, too big to contain. “Deal.”

Without another word Hux opens the door and is gone.

Poe falls back against the wall and closes his eyes. He stays like that for a while, before he pulls himself together and goes to take a shower. He takes his time. Afterwards, he stops in front of the full-body mirror to appraise the damage. The bruise on his cheek and the cut in his lip can easily be explained away by a fistfight. The deep, purple scratches on his thigh almost reaching his backside are a more delicate matter. He can hide them with his boxers, but he will have to be careful not to take them off at home for a couple of days.

His stream of thoughts screeches to an abrupt halt. Last time he fucked Hux, he could put it down to the spur of the moment. A few minutes of losing control and accidentally ending up with an orgasm. An intense-as-hell orgasm, but still. This, however, was different. It was premeditated. He had to make a whole series of conscious decisions to end up here. Worse, the last decision he made was to arrange another meet-up. Another opportunity created solely to cheat on his partner. And now he is standing in front of the mirror, coming up with a strategy to make sure Finn won’t find him out.

On his way home he turns the situation over in his head. Goes through every possible outcome he can think of. It’s impossible these days to tell what mood Finn will be in when he comes home. Today is his early shift, so he will already be there waiting for Poe. If he’s in a bad mood, there will be blaming for the fight Poe got into, or maybe some yelling about some mistake Poe made that he couldn’t possibly have predicted. Put his dirty shoes in the wrong spot or accidentally left the dishes to dry on the wrong side of the rack. Maybe there was some stubble from his shaving in the sink. On a good day none of that matters, but on a bad day? And what if on this particular bad day Poe loses his temper? Is he willing to lose Finn because he accidentally blurts out that he is fucking one of their worst enemies?

Any other person he could lose and still go on, but not Finn. He knew from the time they first met that he would have to stay by Finn’s side as long as Finn needed him. He won’t go back on that promise just because of a stupid obsession that is bound to boil over soon, anyway.

He shoots Finn a little message.

_Are you hungry, babe? Do you want me to get something from the city?_

Luckily, he has grown good at gauging Finn’s mood from his text messages. If he is pissy, Poe will stay away for a couple more hours.

 _I’m making fish_ , the answer returns not a minute later. _And I got us beer from the pub. Do you want to snuggle up on the bed and watch the race tonight?_

With a relieved sigh Poe lowers his smart pad. Happy Finn means a happy evening. Crisis averted for now.


	4. If you see an Apple Store get robbed, does that make you an iWitness ?

“I got a job for you,” Rose says.

This is the first time she answers his call. She looks beat, a fresh bandage on her cheek, but behind her the base is bustling, which is a good sign.

“Are you coming home?”

“Not yet. We’re actually getting new recruits and we’ve started training them. It’s going to take a while.”

“What about the prisoners?”

Rose shakes her head. “That’s what your new job is about.”

“You want me to run the prison break by myself? Could be tough.”

“No, no prison break, not yet. One of our informants came through. We can’t take the prison by force, not even with our new weapons, they’re too well armed. The moment they call for back-up, we’ll be lost.”

“So we have to open it up from the inside.”

She nods. “Apparently the warden has a little side business. She likes to dabble in spice trading, selling stuff to the inmates, you know. Uses it for incentives.”

Poe breathes flat through his nose. “I see where this is going.”

“You told me you used to be a spice runner for Leia.”

“I wasn’t a spice runner, I was an undercover spy. The First Order were using the spice network to funnel money one way and weapons the other and we exposed them. We dealt them a couple of heavy blows with the information I got from them.”

“Great. I need you to do it again.”

“But they don’t use the spice network anymore, they don’t have to. They’re officially the rulers of the Galaxy; why would they have to use back channels to smuggle weapons?”

“Not weapons. This time it’s actually about the spice. Apparently the FO is one of the biggest buyers in the Galaxy.”

“That’s nonsense. They tightened the laws on spice, made even smallest use and possession illegal. Why would they make it illegal and then buy it?”

“Oh Poe.” Says it in the gentle tone of a mother, smiling at the innocence of her child.

“What?” Tries not to sound like a stubborn teenager.

“It’s the perfect way to control people. Make the stuff illegal and then make sure it’s everywhere. If they can’t arrest enough criminals, all they have to do is make up more crime. Fuels their labour camps, fuels the fear, fuels the economy.”

“I thought they believed in what they said about making the Galaxy a better place.”

Rose snorts. “Who does? All the leaders, I can promise you they don’t care about shit. All they care about is power.”

Poe gnaws at his bottom lip. “So what is it you need me to find out?”

“I want you to find the supplier that warden is using and everything about her buying habits. I’m going to give you a partner, who can take over once you’ve established a proper routine, but for now I want you to do the spice run with her and teach her the ropes.”

“Great. Where do we meet?”

“She’s on another mission for now. The first run you’ll have to do by yourself, but you have Zorii; I already contacted her.”

“Roger that. What are we hoping to achieve, blackmail the warden?”

“Blackmail her, but also use the spice deliveries to smuggle things into prison, weapons and communication tools. Also, money. If the inmates can bribe the guards, they can get out without us attacking the prison.”

“That’s sounds like a long con.”

“Yeah.” She cards a hand through her hair. It has grown over the past years. “We hope we can do it in two to three months.”

“All right, when do I start?”

“Zorii is waiting for you on Pzandias. Can you leave tomorrow?”

“Sure thing.”

She flashes him a smile. “This will be good, Poe. We’re making progress.”

***

Zorii is waiting for him in the shabbiest, most run-down rum joint of all of Pzandias. She takes one look at him, tips her bottle of beer to her lips, and drinks.

“Hey, queen,” he greets her.

“Hey, ace. You look older.”

“You look stunning. Give me a kiss?”

She pops the crown cap off of a new bottle with her knife and hands it to him. “Do you need me to play your beard again?”

“Yes, please.”

She shakes her head. “Why not just tell people you’re gay? Are you ashamed or something?”

“Bullshit, I’m out to everyone. But spice runners are a homophobic bunch, tell me I’m wrong. The moment they find out I’m gay they treat me like a leper.”

She purses her lips, but does not disagree. “Are you ready?”

“What’s the first mission?”

She pulls out a map and spreads it on the counter. “So a couple days ago another spice ring stole one of my cargo batches. We need to get it back.”

“Oooh, sounds dangerous. Where they at?”

“Pretty far outside in the Outer Rim. Thing is, it’s the Razor Belts.”

Poe groans. “They hate the Resistance. Leia came down pretty hard on them; now they want us all dead.”

She nods. “So you can’t tell them you’re with the Resistance. And we need to be stealthy. They’ve gotten a load more recruits recently, courtesy of the FO. No smashing in there, bats swinging; we need to be stealthy, got it?”

“What does that mean, courtesy of the FO?”

She takes a long swig. “Spice trade is at a new high. They made possession illegal, but they use tons of that stuff. Fuels demand.”

“Yeah, Rose told me. It doesn’t make sense, though.”

“It makes perfect sense. Even worse, they control the market to an extent that they can make all sorts of demands. You know how spice traders get places and see things that others have no access to? The FO uses traders to take out smaller rebellion groups or to spy on planets they don’t trust.”

Poe empties half his bottle, then slams it on the counter. “Blazes, that’s vile.”

“Yeah. Of course, a lot of us don’t comply. We don’t play by the rules, that’s why we’re doing this job. But there’s still enough who like the money and the protection the FO can offer. We have to be careful.”

“Hey, Zorii?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you still doing this job, anyway? It’s a shit job that brings misery to millions of people.”

She punches his shoulder, eyes blazing. “Oh, you wanna know why I can’t quit? It’s so if dumb nuts like you come knocking, I still have all the doors open and all my old contacts in place. So the moment the Resistance begs me for my help again, I can do my part.”

“Oh.” He rubs his shoulder.

“Yeah. Don’t you dare come at me with your accusations and your righteous bullshit. You’re the one who came crawling back to me.”

“You’re right and I’m sorry.” He raises both hands and gives her his best charming smile until she lowers her fist with a _harrumph_. “So. We get your cargo back from the Razor Belts. Does that help me get closer to the prison warden?”

“In a way. The cargo was supposed to go to the FO, not prison, but one of their bases. I’ve only started delivering for them a couple of weeks back, but recently they got me more orders.”

“Because you’re so lovely.”

“Because I’m reliable, don’t skim off the top, and don’t make trouble. They like me well enough.”

“So you’re hoping if you keep it up, the warden is gonna contact you?”

“Something like that. I don’t know who her supplier is right now, but the more I deliver for the FO, the more I know about their usual suppliers. None of them like the FO. We find out who sells to the warden, we make a deal with them and take over for them, and that’s your ticket in.”

“Sounds doable.”

“Only if we get this batch back. I can’t risk getting known as the trader who has their cargo stolen.”

“Okay, so we go into stealth mode. What does that look like, do we have a crew?”

“Just you and me. You’ll distract them by dancing around their noses, while I sneak in the back and get out the cargo.”

Poe leans back. Excitement buzzes in his fingertips. “Sounds easy enough.”

She leans forward and levels him with a warning glare. “You need to be careful, they have a couple of decent flyers. Don’t let them challenge you and don’t get cocky. You fly close, let them see you, then pull their fire and stay out of range. No breakneck manoeuvres, no showing them what an awesome pilot you are. You do not compromise this mission by trying to prove you’re better than them.”

It hurts a little. “Hey, I’m a grown-up now. You can trust me, all right? Clean mission, no cock-ups.”

She nods hesitantly. “I’m trusting you here.”

“I won’t let you down. Hey, how long do you think it will take? Think we can make it in four days?”

She squints at him. “Why? What’s in four days?”

“I kind of have a date.”

“You want to finish the mission early so you can fuck some twink you met on Boinkr?”

“I’ll have you know I have a boyfriend, all right? Three years and counting.”

She whistles softly. “Three years, not bad. Then why can’t that boyfriend wait a bit longer than four days, huh?”

“Because, uh, we’ve been having problems. It’s been rocky lately and I haven’t shown up to the last couple of dates and if I miss this one, my whole relationship could be in jeopardy. I don’t want to lose him.”

Cold sweat breaks out when she gives him a thorough once-over. Only part of it is a lie, but he still feels guilty.

“Problems.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat, which has suddenly dried up. Takes a swig of his beer. “You know him, actually, it’s Finn. He was with me when we went to visit you before the Battle of Exegol.”

“I remember. When you took my captain’s badge and got my planet blown up.”

He flinches. “Yeah, that time.”

“So you’re together now, huh? Why isn’t he here with you then?”

“Because he got out. After Exegol we all lied low for a while, and when Rose called us back he didn’t want to return to the fight. He said he’d left the FO so he wouldn’t have to fight and kill. He’d never wanted to join the Resistance in the first place.”

She sighs. “I see.”

“Plus, he was becoming aware that he was Force sensitive. He says it feels different once you’ve awoken to the Force. Killing people feels much more intense. You either give in to the feeling, or you give up violence. He chose to give up violence.”

“He’s Force sensitive? Don’t let the Emperor hear that.”

“Yeah, he’s been careful. He’s been meeting up with other Force sensitives who try to use their powers in similar ways, to connect with the universe and find balance. It’s a whole thing.”

“Let me guess. He doesn’t like it that you keep on fighting?”

Poe shakes his head with a grimace. “Hates it. He doesn’t want me to put myself in danger like that. It’s like he takes it personally, like I’m trying to slight him, or passing judgement over his own life. We got into a huge fight before I left to meet you.”

At least about this he doesn’t have to lie. Finn kept yelling at him for hours, about doing dirty business that brought pain to others, about chasing old adventures he should have let go of by now, and above all about once again placing his own need to play the hero above their relationship.

When Poe left he received a text from Finn.

_[finn-the-human]: I went too far last time, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just meant to tell you how I felt and then I exploded like that, I feel so shitty right now._

_[finn-the-human]: I’ve never felt worse about you taking a job, maybe that’s why I got so emotional. Could you please hear me out about this?_

_[finn-the-human]: I was really hurt, otherwise I would never have reacted like that._

He is still puzzling over how to respond.

“All right,” Zorii says. “Don’t worry, this should be a quick in-and-out job, just like you with your boy toys.”

“Ha fucking ha.”

“No more than two days, plus one to deliver the cargo. Afterwards you can go and have your relationship-saving date. How’s that sound?”

“Perfect. Do we leave today?”

She stands up and jerks her head towards the exit. “Let’s go.”

***

Poe lets Zorii take the lead and fly them from the Mid into the Outer Rim. FO control ships barely fly around here, since many of the planets still hold the line against the Empire. They pass without trouble through the Arkanis Sector and close in on the huge transporter the Razor Belts use for their cargo.

Once they have reached the transporter Zorii lags behind in her X-Wing, while Poe shoots ahead, loops once around the nose of the transporter and fires a light round of shots toward their top cannon. When the cannon glows up, he puts distance between them. Evading its deadly ray is child’s play. He ambles closer again, coaxes another two shots out of it, then flies out of sight for a moment.

He returns to find two smaller racers armed with front guns parting from the transporter and coming towards him. A grin spreads on his face. Now the real fun begins. He kicks his engine into the next gear and speeds away, towing his pursuers around a little nebula, then dragging them back to the transporter.

They close in, flank him, and barrage him with fire. Poe pulls up his X-Wing and flies a wide loop, than a narrower one, before he shoots away again. That should keep them occupied for a moment.

A shot hits his wing and jolts his racer. He yelps in surprise. A look in his side mirror shows one of his pursuers right behind his left wing, trailing after him at a steady distance.

Poe presses his lips together and gives his X-Wing more juice before he flies another loop, then makes a sharp curve and dives under the transporter belly, but when he checks his mirror the racer is still following him at the same distance.

This cannot be. He zigzags through the nebula, loops again, turns around, charges straight towards his opponent, and catches them in a turn so tight the X-Wing groans. He fires a salve of shots onto the racer before he turns and gains distance with wider loops. For a moment his opponent trails behind, unable to catch up to Poe’s manoeuvre.

In his ear, the intercom crackles. “Well done, I’ve got it. Let’s go.”

A boom, another jolt. Poe peers into his side mirror. There it is again, gaining on him fast.

He grunts. “Yeah, give me a minute.”

They want to play, let’s play. He readies his cannons, speeds up, leads the racer away from the transporter, deeper into the nebula, flies an elegant curve it can follow easily, then dips, dives, tears up and charges straight at his pursuer. A series of shots into its view port, then another loop, then another couple of shots. The racer shoots back. Poe dances out of the way. When he pulls up and curves away, the racer turns.

It’s leaving. Furious, Poe pursues, catches up with it barely half a mile from the transporter, and challenges it with another series of shots, this time aimed at its wings. One of the wings splinters. He doubles down, keeping the transporter in the corners of his eyes, coming closer, nearly colliding with the thick hull, but in the last instant he tears up his handle and shoots past the rear-

His X-Wing groans and slows down. Confused, Poe rattles the handle, but instead of turning the ship trembles, then stops moving. A light flashes up, blindingly bright.

Tractor beam. Oh shit.

He kicks the racer into highest gear and slams his fist onto the red button that adds a little fire to the fuel. Full impulse. The ship creaks and whines, tremors shaking its hull as it fights the tractor beam. On his screen the enemy racer dances a little victory dance.

“Zorii!” Poe screams into the intercom. “I’m trapped, they’re pulling me in, you need to-”

The connection breaks off. His X-Wing is moving again, but in the opposite direction of his steering. The giant transporter sucks it in, right into its cargo bay, and closes the airlock. Then, a deep boom and all electronics die with a flicker.

Poe sags into his seat. They got him.

On the ground people gather around his ship and yell at him to come out. Since all he can do is admit defeat, he obeys. When he opens the door at least a dozen blaster point at him. Two women grab his arms and pull him forwards while the rest of the crew climbs his ship and starts searching it.

“Careful with that,” Poe yells. “It’s a new model.”

One of the women shoves him. “Shut your mouth and walk.”

Blasters pressed into his back he stumbles ahead through doors and along corridors until they reach the bridge. The women deliver him straight in front of a monster of a man who looks like a mixture of Wookie and Gotal, complete with fur and horns and just enough human in the mix to give him the ability to stare down at Poe with furious black eyes.

“Zorii Bliss,” he growls from the captain’s chair the moment Poe is standing before him. “She stole our cargo, where is she?”

“She did what?” Poe raises both hands in innocent defiance.

“Don’t play dumb with me, we have her on camera! She used you as distraction and stole back the batch we took from her.” He leans closer until his foul breath hits Poe in the face. “Who are you?”

“Um, I’m Mike. Hi, I’m new.” He gives a little wave.

“New,” the man grunts and looks at the human standing next to him, who shrugs. “Why is a rookie working together with Zorii? She never works with rookies. What’s so special about you, Mike, huh?”

“Maybe he’s a spy,” the man next to him ventures. “For the FO?”

“I’m not a spy, I’m just good.”

“Zorii wouldn’t be stupid enough to trust a rookie just because he can fly,” the boss grunts. He looks at one of the women who brought Poe in. “Can he fly?”

She nods. “Gave me a run for my money.”

Poe turns to look at her and if he had a straight bone in his body he would fall in love right this instant. Tall, slanted eyes watching him keenly, broad lips almost pulled in a smile. She must be the one who challenged him out there.

“Still, what did you do to convince Zorii to partner with you?” the boss continues in the same half-growl that reminds Poe more of a tiger than a man.

Poe shrugs. “We’re kind of an item, you know.”

Silence falls. The human advisor’s jaw drops as he pales. The women next to him closes her eyes and shakes her head in a minuscule motion. A sinking feeling spreads in Poe’s stomach.

The boss rises from his seat to his full height of over two metres. “An item. You’re her boyfriend?”

Whelp, it’s too late now. “Sure am.”

A howl erupts from the boss’ snout and echoes through the bridge. “Her boyfriend! She has a boyfriend! How dare she!”

Instinctively Poe takes a step back. The women holding him at gun point let him retreat.

“And a weakling no less! How can she snub me like that!”

The advisor clears his throat. “Maybe it’s to make you jealous, Jhari-”

“Jealous!” Jhari bellows. “She wants me to rip this puny bastard in pieces, is that it? All because I broke up with her, that bitch!”

Poe takes a deep breath. Fucking Zorii. Of course she had to keep her mouth shut about her ex-boyfriend. And of course she had to find the most brutish, most violent, most volatile beast in the whole Galaxy to date. That woman can’t make a safe choice in her dating life if she was forced at gun point.

_All right, Poe, maybe not the best time in your career to get judgmental about her taste in men._

“Um, maybe if you release me I can put in a good word for you-”

“You!” Jhari grabs his collar, yanks him closer, and shakes him till his bones rattle. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Hey, I didn’t even know you two were dating. I only saw her and fell in love with her… her, her womanly ways. The jiggly bits. You know.”

The advisor heaves a noiseless sigh and shakes his head at him. With a howl Jhari sends him flying across half the bridge. He skids into the next wall. Ouch.

“Is she happy?” he howls. “Is she happy with a shit stain like you?”

“She’s pretty happy, yeah.”

The advisor and everyone else in the room slam their palms to their faces.

“You dare!” Jhari wails. “I will tear your limbs from your body, I will roast you on open fire! I will make a mug out of your skull!”

Poetic for a giant brute.

“If you kill me, you lose her for good. She’s not going to forgive you for that.”

“You steal my woman and you steal my cargo! Have you no shame?”

“Hey, you stole that cargo first. Let me go and I’ll talk with Zorii about the cargo, all right?”

“I don’t want the cargo, I want her! I know, we keep you here, then she’ll have to come back and get you!”

“No!” Poe jumps up and marches upon Jhari. The two women raise their blasters, albeit half-heartedly. “You can’t keep me here, please, I have a date in four days-”

Both blasters drop when the women lower their faces into their hands. The advisor gives him the horrified stare of a rabbit in the face of an eagle.

Only when Jhari howls in rage does Poe realize his mistake.

“He mocks me!” Jhari stomps up to him again and grabs both his arms with bruising force. “You think you can hurt me by telling me you plan to seduce my woman? Scum! Lock him away! Make sure there’s no date for him anytime soon!”

Before he can rave on, the women grab Poe, wrestle him from Jhari’s grip, and drag him towards the exit. The door closes on Jhari yanking a piece off of his captain’s chair and hurtling it across the room with manic wails.

“You’re an idiot,” the woman who nearly bested him informs him.

“Please, you need to let me go. This is not what you think it is.”

They shake their heads as they halt in front of the brig. “Just keep your mouth shut from now on.”

He is juggling too many relationships. One fake one, the real one that’s close to breaking apart, and the hidden one he can’t let anyone find out about; no wonder he is getting them mixed up. Maybe he should just come clean and tell Jhari he is gay. How much worse could it be to be hatecrimed instead of beaten to a pulp by a scorned ex?

The answer is much worse. The answer is always much, much worse. He will have to see this one through to the end.

***

At least they feed him. The hours tick by, interrupted only by a bowl of porridge every now and then. They took away his com-link and his smart pad, so he has no way of telling the time, but by his stomach he estimates that he has been with the runners for about four days when his cell door opens and the advisor waves him outside.

“Are you letting me go?” he asks as he follows the man along the corridor.

“You got yourself into deep trouble with that Zorii talk,” the advisor replies, nose turned up. “Now deal with it.”

He delivers Poe to a private chamber where Jhari is sitting in briefs and a tank top and chugging a whole bottle of Cardassian Ale. Uh-oh. When Poe sits down, he passes him a fresh bottle.

“Why hasn’t she come yet?”

Poe eyes the ale, then decides to fuck it. He drinks. “Maybe she abandoned me? She probably doesn’t love me as much as I thought she did.”

“Bullshit. Zorii doesn’t abandon people, no matter how badly they fuck up. If you think that about her you don’t know her at all and you don’t deserve her.”

“No, you’re right. I’m sure she’ll show up.”

Jhari drinks silently for a while, brooding in his broad leather seat. “I dumped her,” he finally says. “I was afraid she was gonna tie me down and wanting to get domestic, so I dumped her. Didn’t think she’d find a rebound so fast.”

Poe snorts. “Zorii, domestic. Who’s the one that doesn’t know her now?”

“She’s not the homemaking type, is she?”

“She loves her freedom more than anyone else I ever met. She’d die before she’d let anyone try and cage her. She does what she wants and she’ll always choose her job over love because she can’t sit still and not wreak havoc even for a minute.”

“Yeah. I worried for nothing.”

“Yeah, you did.” Poe leans back his head and stares at the ceiling. In all but the romantic and sexual sense, Zorii was the perfect partner for him. Confident enough to know exactly what she wanted, proud enough to demand her due without ever backing down, unwilling to play by anyone’s rules but her own. As long as he respected her, working with her was easy, uncomplicated. They fought together and drunk together and shared secrets, but she never once asked him to change a single damn thing about himself.

“It’s just, she’s so hard-headed, you know. I run an organization, I need to know that my crew does what I tell them to do. She doesn’t follow our rules, she needs to obey my rules.”

Poe snorts. “Good luck. You can’t control Zorii like one of your crew mates. That one’s on you, buddy.”

“But if she doesn’t she can’t work with us.”

“Why not? She might not follow your rules, but she’s a good fighter and she always plays for her team. Just let her do what she wants, she knows better than you, anyway.”

Jhari shakes his head with a stubborn pout. “Doesn’t work that way. My woman has to follow my command.”

“See, mate, I’d never be stupid enough to say something like that. You treated her like she was second-class and then you dumped her, you really wanna come crying to me because she got herself a better man?”

A punch to his chest sends him flying into the wall. Howling with rage Jhari grabs his bottle. The instant before it smashes into his head Poe yanks up his arm. It shatters and cuts open his skin, leaving deep gushes. Blood hits the floor.

“Kill him!” Jhari roars. “Shoot him dead and throw him into space!”

The door opens. The two women and the advisor hurry into the room, grab Poe and drag him from the room before Jhari can bash into him again. Sharp pain flares through his arm. He nearly slips on his own blood as he stumbles outside and away.

In a corner they stop, panting. The advisor hurries away while the woman who almost bested him raises his arm and peels away scraps of clothing.

“What did you say?” she barks at him.

“Something stupid,” Poe mumbles. “Should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“Yeah, you should,” the other one says. “He acts like he’s over Zorii, but the moment someone mentions her, he’s in that mood again. He’s been drinking for the past four days non-stop.”

“How could I have known he’s her ex? She didn’t tell me.”

“Shut up now,” the first one hushes him when the advisor returns with a med kit in his hands.

They bandage his wound, then drag him further until the corridor widens into the cargo bay.

“Where are you taking me?” Poe pants. If they intend to obey Jhari’s command and kill him, why bandage the cuts first?

“There’s your ship.” The first woman points at the X-Wing standing where he left it three days ago. “Your smart pad and com-link are inside. Zorii has been following us, but so far Jhari hasn’t noticed. Go back to her and get out of here.”

He stares at her, then at the other two. “You’re helping me escape?”

The advisor sighs. “Zorii was a disaster for Jhari. They fought, then they fucked, then they fought again. He was useless when she was around and violent when she was gone. He spent so much money on her we barely had anything left from the spice runs. After he dumped her he got better, but this is the fifth time they broke up.”

“Take Zorii,” the second woman says. “Keep her. Make sure she doesn’t come back to Jhari.”

The first one takes the second one’s hand and squeezes it, flashing her a smile. “Make her happy.”

“What-” Poe stares from one to the other. “What are you- are you a couple?”

They level him with a glare. “Yeah. So?”

“You’re gay? Openly gay?”

“Not cool, dude. Don’t be homophobic.”

“Times have changed,” the advisor says. “You can’t just bash on gay crew members anymore. One of our lieutenants came out as a trans woman last year. We’ve all been supportive.”

“Oh!” Poe breathes a deep sigh of relief and grins.

“So you better not start with the slurs,” the first woman warns him with a scoff.

“No, I’m-” He can’t tell them. His freedom hinges on their conviction that he and Zorii are madly in love with each other. “I’m totally cool with that. Power to the rainbow.”

“All right, all right, don’t oversell it. Just get on your ship.”

He chooses not to drag out the farewell scene. The airlock opens to let him out and he shoots away from the transporter as fast as he can. He brings several thousand miles of distance between them before he turns on his com-link and calls for Zorii.

“There you are,” she gripes the moment she connects. “What the fuck was that, getting caught and then staying on that thing for four whole fucking days?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He checks her signal and directs the X-Wing towards her position. “I met your ex. We had a lovely chat.”

For a minute only static noise fills his ear. “Right.”

“Could have warned me.”

“I didn’t think it would be relevant. Are you okay?”

“He nearly cut off my arm, I think I need a healer.”

“Let’s get you back to Pzandias. At least I got the cargo.”

“Is it too late to reach Coruscant in time for my date?”

“Poe, we’re fifty hours away from Coruscant, even on a better racer. Just message your boyfriend and tell him you’ll make it next week.”

Poe sighs and switches to autopilot. “Easier said than done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how those losers tried to no homo Poe of all people and decided it was good writing to make the one prominent Latino in the trilogy an ex-drug lord? Yeah, we’re retconning the shit out of that storyline. 
> 
> BTW, Disney going “yeah, we’re introducing our first gay character in Star Wars in this trilogy” right after TFA came out and everybody was jumping on the Poe/Finn ship and then knowing fully well that they’d queerbait all fans to the very end of the series only to give us that sham of a Lesbian Kiss Scene that you missed if you blinked in the wrong moment is the reason why I’m done with both Star Wars and Marvel. Don’t come to me with The Mandalorian, I’m not watching that shit. Neither am I watching whatever they’ll launch next. Fuck Disney


	5. What do you call a snail that isn’t moving? An escar-stay .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor cw for blood in this chapter. sexy blood.
> 
> So I decided to call my great aunt for the first time in about 2 years (hey, I was in Japan and she only has a landline ok) and the person who answered on my second try was some older man who said something I didn't quite catch, so naturally I thought I had the wrong number and hung up. Only to then remember that recently she got a boyfriend (at 92, you go, auntie) and that it was probably him who answered. So I tried calling again, twice, but each time I was hung up on. My great aunt is a cautious person who is constantly afraid of scam callers, so I'm 99% sure she now thinks I am a scam caller. I have given up on calling and instead decided to write her a letter, hoping she'll call me again. Still, blocked and reported by my own great aunt. I'm sad.

The siren howls at 9 pm. The captain starts her patrol without a glance at the side alley where Poe is sitting on the garage, waiting. The street lights bathe the main street in a gentle glow, attracting myriads of moths, but the side alley barely receives a bit of stray light.

His first destination was the hotel, five days too late, so his hopes were slim, but maybe Hux left him a message. Of course all he received was silence from the droids, so now he is here.

He should have gone home. During his time in the hospital on Pzandias he worked on what to say to Finn. He even discussed it with Zorii. First he put her through the wringer for keeping her ex-boyfriend a secret from him, but once she threw up her hands and threatened to leave him to fend for himself, he graciously forgave her. She suggested a heartfelt apology as the easiest way to keep the peace, so that is what he is going with.

Finn should be the first thing on his mind, especially after the fright he had. With his arm still bandaged he makes a pitiful picture; pitiful enough for any loving boyfriend to forget his anger and take him back with a squeeze and a mug of hot chocolate. Only that he doesn’t want to apologize. Which is how he ended up here, in the side alley, waiting for Hux to come by.

It’s almost ten before he appears, walking briskly without looking around. Poe lets him pass, then slides down the garage. He takes one step forward. Hux whirls around and unloads his blaster straight at his face.

The fire singes his hair as he drops. “Wait, stop shooting, it’s me!”

Hux shoots at him again, then again. Poe dodges, then grabs the hand holding the blaster and yanks it towards him. With a hiss Hux punches him in the stomach. When he doubles over with a choked cough, Hux aims the blaster at his head.

“Give me a better reason not to shoot you.” His voice could cut steel.

“All right, all right, you’re angry, understandable, but I had a good reason. I got abducted, okay, and seriously hurt, it was touch and go for a while. Seriously, I didn’t just blow you off. I was fighting for my life.”

“Great, then this should feel familiar.”

When the shot leaves the barrel Poe slams his back into the wall, then uses the leverage to kick Hux in the side. Hux stumbles. Poe grabs the blaster hand again and this time twists it until Hux drops the blaster with a pained grunt. He struggles against Poe shoving him into the garage door, hissing and spitting like a cat, until above their heads a window opens and light floods the street.

A voice calls down to them. Hux freezes, panting, while Poe looks up, waves, and calls back.

“My partner’s a bit drunk, sorry for the ruckus. I’ll get him home.”

“I told you,” Hux hisses when Poe marches him along the street into a more private spot with trees and a wooden bench, “I see you out here I shoot you dead.”

“Okay, can we talk about this? I wasn’t meaning to stand you up, you gotta believe me. Here, I got the scars to prove it.”

He lets go of Hux and pulls back his sleeve to show the bandages around his arm.

“You think this is about you standing me up? Have you forgotten who I am? You come here, to my place of work, and think you can jump me from behind, Resistance scum, and expect me to drop my blaster and roll over?”

“Oh, starting with the pet names early, all right.” Poe raises both hands. “I just wanted to explain myself. I understand you must have felt pretty stupid, coming to that hotel and expecting me to show up only to realize I wasn’t coming.”

Hux charges at him, fists raised. Poe steps aside, then grabs his arm. “Can you stop attacking me for one moment? I wanted to come, seriously, I got myself in so much trouble just because I tried to make it in time.”

Hux says nothing, merely stands there, shoulders rising and falling, glaring at him in silent rage.

“I didn’t forget you. I wanted to be there so badly, I nearly got myself killed because of it, all right?”

“All right,” Hux scoffs. “I get it. You love me, you want my babies. None of that changes that you think you can attack me and not be taken prisoner and tried for your crimes against the government!”

“Oh come on, you can’t seriously tell me that this is about wanting to arrest me and not about the fact that I stood you up.”

“Fine. Don’t believe it. Just die!”

This time Hux’s punch catches Poe’s jaw. His head snaps back. He jumps aside just in time to evade the second one, then tackles Hux. Drags him down, kneels on his arse, snatching up his flailing wrists and pinning them to his back.

“Honey, you really think you stand a chance against me without your blaster?”

Hux bucks under him, hard enough to nearly throw him off. When Poe stretches out a hand to catch himself, he yanks his wrist free and rams his elbow into Poe’s chest.

“That’s enough.”

Poe draws his own blaster, cocks it, and sets it to Hux’s shoulder.

“One more move and I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Heaving, Hux drops his arm. His struggles cease.

“Shoot me,” he grinds out. “Before you start talking about your feelings again, do me a favour and shoot me. Everything is better than your blathering.”

“Ugh, you’re an angel, aren’t you? Fine, I won’t blather. I’ll give you a choice. You take me here and now, in the open where anybody could see us, or you shut your cute mouth, stop attacking me, and I’ll allow you to keep your clothes on until we’re in the hotel.”

He waits. Hux beneath him is panting angry huffs, eyes on the blaster that Poe is slowly moving from his shoulder to his throat.

“What’s it gonna be, tiger?”

“I will murder you for this!”

“Yeah, yeah, but you were gonna murder me anyway. Can’t threaten to shoot me every five seconds and then be surprised when I decide to see how much I can get out of my death sentence first.”

Hux growls. He doesn’t quite get Jhari’s pitch, but it’s not bad.

“Hotel,” he finally grinds out.

“Great. You may get up, but don’t forget – I have a weapon, you don’t.”

Poe releases him inch by inch, waiting for the attack to happen, blaster ready on stun. He is not going to kill Hux, but maybe hurt him a little. Just a smidge.

Instead, Hux staggers to his feet, turns away and leads Poe from the side alley towards the station, then into the shopping street where the hotel is waiting. Room number 306, same as before. It looks the same, too. Poe throws his jacket over the cloak rack at the door and secures his blaster, before he sets it down.

Hux has taken off his coat and folded it neatly over a chair, back turned towards Poe, looking out at the balcony. A drizzle has started. Water mists the window panes and drips from the sunblind.

“All right,” Poe says and pulls off his boots. “You gonna come here and give me some sugar, or do I have to do everything by myself?”

Quick as lightning Hux whips around and thrusts his hand out. The curved blade of a dagger presses into Poe’s throat. He stares at Hux, who stares back. The steel cuts into his skin just so; not enough yet to draw blood, but enough to leave a faint itch, a reminder that any sudden movement will leave him bleeding to death.

Heat breaks out in his chest and pools down into his groin. Hux takes a single step closer towards him. The pressure remains the same.

Poe cocks his head. Maybe this is the wrong time to have arousal pumping him like a hurricane, but stars, if there ever was a time to fuck this man it’s now, with his blade at his throat. He takes a step forward. Hux’s eyes grow wide, but the pressure of the dagger doesn’t change. Instead, Hux takes a step back.

If it’s a dance he wants, a dance he can have. Poe advances slowly, pursuing Hux like a predator his prey, making him walk backwards across the room to the bed. He moves into the blade on purpose, forcing Hux to make the decision with each step: cut him or retreat. Hux chooses retreat.

When the bed hits his legs, Hux stumbles. He lands on the covers and before he can pick himself up again, Poe is kneeling between his legs, moving against the blade again on purpose, forcing it sharp against his throat. Hux’s arm trembles, but his lips stay pressed together and his eyes lock into Poe’s in fierce defiance.

Wordlessly, Poe lowers a hand to Hux’s waist. He strokes firmly along his thigh, down his knee, to the rim of his boot. Squeezes a thumb between boot and leg and flicks the clasp. Hux’s chest rises on a sharp inhale when Poe eases the boot off his calf, then moves on to the second. He twists his wrist just so and the blade now cuts into the underside of Poe’s jaw, scraping against his beard stubbles. With calm movements Poe pulls off the second boot. Then he moves on to the belt. By now the intricate buckle is no mystery to him anymore. He flips it open and pulls down the black uniform trousers to leave Hux in shirt and tight, black briefs that cling to his thighs and his backside.

Poe offers him a little smile, then leans closer. Hux, who has stemmed a hand into the cover and not moved the dagger from his throat, watches him with flaring nostrils as Poe reaches into the cabinet next to the bed, takes out the Golden Arc, and sets it down next to him on the bed. The blade slips a bit when Poe lays a palm over the bulge between Hux’s legs and gives it a soft squeeze. It returns to its former position when he moves his fingers lower, still above the pants, and rides them up the cleft of his arse.

Eyes locked into Hux’s he dribbles lube over his fingers, then slides them into the trunk leg and finds his aim, clenched shut. He strokes, coaxes, his other hand kneading the soft skin on Hux’s thigh, chin raised high to allow Hux unrestrained access to his throat. The dagger is still sharp and it could still end this play in a second; a single determined stroke would open his carotid and let him bleed out faster than he could call an ambulance.

Arousal turns painful each time he moves into the blade. Hux letting him press two fingers into his arse, sucking in his breath when Poe breaches him, not lowering the dagger but also not cutting yet, fuels him with a heat that becomes near incontrollable. Underneath the trunks, hidden even to his own eyes, he thrusts his fingers sharp and quick. Hux’s mouth opens on a gasp, then he drops onto his back.

Poe moves after him, back into dagger reach, challenging Hux to keep it in position. Hux obeys. His arm twitches when Poe curls his fingers, fucks into him harder, then his eyes close. Poe pulls out. He tears off trunks and his own trousers and shirt, climbs back on the bed, back into the blade, and spurts a generous helping of the lube on his cock, before he spreads Hux’s legs and presses in.

Hux’s head falls back. He gasps out a little cry, body arching when Poe forces him open and spears him. The dagger jerks, nicks his skin. Sharp pain flashes up in Poe’s throat that leaves him delirious for a moment. His fingers dig into Hux’s thighs, his hips snap forward, and he buries himself to the hilt in Hux crying out in shock.

All restraints are gone. Blood flows down his throat; not a river, nothing dangerous yet, just a trickle, but the burn of the steel is enough to drive him. He slams into Hux over and over, riding him hard, seeking contact, seeking the moment the body under him stretches taut and stops his thrust because it cannot take anymore, because he has filled it to the brim and founds it core, the hot, tight space that makes Hux gag out unconscious whines and makes him shudder each time he hits it. He leans deeper, dares Hux to cut him again, nearly folding him in half as he bears down on him, eyes locked, mouth open.

Blood sprays a thin mist over Hux’s face, barely darker than his blush. Poe fucks him, ruts him up into the headboard with each thrust, pulls him down again, no rhythm, no technique, pure need. He closes his eyes and grinds his teeth to stifle his moans, then looks down again, captivated by the glint in Hux’s eyes as they follow the blood.

He rolls his hips, for the first time since he started intent on making this pleasurable for Hux. The response is beautiful. A gasp, then Hux’s whole back arches. The dagger topples from his hand onto the cover, sprinkling red where it lands. While his hand flails, seeking something to hold on to, Poe snatches his wrist, links it with the other one, and shoves both into the pillow above Hux’s head where he holds them down. With the other hand he grabs the knife, drives it up Hux’s chest, blade pressed flat to his skin, then yanks it upwards. The buttons bounce from the shirt as it tears apart.

Moving relentlessly, fucking into a whining, needy Hux writhing under him, Poe hurtles the dagger across the room, then grabs Hux’s leg and sets it on his shoulder, before he bears down again, this time free to move as he wants, deep, forceful rolls of his hips that work down from his chest to his toes.

Hux nearly chokes on his moans. Cheeks reddened, eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking down his temples, his whole body surrendered to Poe, he looks almost angelic. Droplets of blood fly from Poe’s throat and land on his face, red against white. Poe smears his fingers through the shallow wound and jams them into Hux’s mouth, forcing his teeth apart. Hux’s tongue laps against them; he sucks the blood off of Poe’s fingers. Poe tilts up his head, bows down, and buries his teeth into his throat. He bites down until he almost breaks skin, sucks and whets his teeth on tender, clean-shaven skin. His tongue presses into Hux’s pulse.

“Should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” he growls, voice like rolling thunder.

In response, a shiver works its way up Hux’s entire body.

He fucks more slowly now, more deliberate, making each roll of his hip felt, dragging out the feeling of driving into Hux and pulling out. Arousal turns hot and tight inside him. He takes his fingers out of Hux’s mouth, paints a wet, pink streak down his cheek and neck, and feels for his cock.

When he starts pumping, Hux comes undone. His moans turn loud, unabashed, the last strain of tension leaves his body and turns it over to Poe to do as he pleases, and his soft trembles turn into full-blown shivers. Poe fucks him and bites down on his own lip, forcing himself to hold on. His brain threatens to melt.

“Fuck,” he finally groans out, “fuck, can you please come already, I’m-”

Above him, Hux chokes out half a laugh. “You’ve ruined it.”

Poe looks up. He slows down, comes to a halt. Where his body connects with Hux’s and stays burrowed in his heat, his pulse pounds hard enough to shake them both.

“Ruined it.”

“Either finish,” Hux whispers, eyes glistening, voice choking on his gasps, “or give up. But there is not a chance in hell you’re going to make me come tonight.”

“Why?” Poe gives him a little nudge and watches with satisfaction how Hux’s eyes glaze over. “You can’t tell me this does nothing for you.”

Hux sneers. “If it did nothing I wouldn’t allow you to come inside me, without a condom, again.”

“Tell me how to make you come.”

“Not like this.”

“Then what’s the point?”

Hux looks up at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and moves his hips just so. “You tell me.”

Poe nearly blacks out. Next thing he knows he is hammering again, going fast, in a clear line towards the goal now. Hux underneath him purrs, yanks free one arm to wind his fingers into Poe’s hair and pull him down, squeezing him between his thighs. Hux’s tongue laps against his throat, licking up the blood, and Poe gives up. He spills, shivering, all energy draining from his body into Hux’s.

The moment he is done, he breaks down and buries Hux beneath him. The tight hold around his waist eases up. Hux pants against his skin, but does not force him off yet.

“Bloody hell,” Hux finally mumbles and gives him a half-hearted shove.

Poe pushes himself up with a groan to look down. Hux’s entire upper body is smeared with his blood, even though the burn has almost subsided by now.

“All right, enlighten me here. You can’t get pregnant and I’m on the cocktail, there’s no way you’ll catch something from me. Why should I use condoms?”

“It’s not about STDs, you brainless oaf, it’s about manners! I don’t want to feel like I’ve shat myself the next couple hours because you’ve got to spill your cum everywhere!”

“But you’re going home, anyway. Nobody can see you.”

“You’re an imbecile.”

“And you’re mean. I’m trying really hard here.”

“Try harder and get off me.”

Hux shoves him again. Reluctantly, Poe rolls off and watches him stand up and stagger to the bathroom. The sight does please him, to watch Hux take wobbly steps, traces of white semen making their way down his thighs.

Poe follows him into the bathroom. While Hux turns on the shower, he inspects the cut in the mirror above the sink. The bleeding has almost stopped already. He cleans it and treats it with waterproof tincture before he joins Hux under the shower.

“Okay, but maybe a hint?” he presses. “You can’t tell me you’re happy never getting to finish.”

Hux raises his face into the warm spray and lets the traces of blood flush down into the tub. “Who says I want to finish?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t you want to finish? It’s nice. Feels good.”

“For you. For me the price is too high, so can you please just stop sticking your nose in shit that’s none of your business?”

“Price is too high, what does that even mean?”

“Of course you don’t understand, why would you,” Hux mutters. “You peddle orgasms like a fourteen-year-old who has just discovered there’s free porn on the internet.”

Poe laughs. “I’ll have you know I discovered that when I was about eleven. And then I was really grossed out for about a year and then I got curious and clicked on one of those videos and I’ve never looked back since.”

“What a touching story. I’m moved, no really, tears in my eyes. That’s a story you one day tell your grandchildren.”

Poe snatches Hux around the waist and gives him a squeeze. “Babe, let me get you some sugar, you’re too salty.”

Hux swats at his hand, but he doesn’t try to wriggle out of the embrace. “You have no patience, no stamina. All you do is chase your orgasms like they’re the only thing that matters. If you took your time to enjoy what lies between them, you might discover a few things about yourself.”

“I know plenty about myself and I have stamina. It’s just, I was in the hospital for five days, look at this. See these wounds?” He holds his arm with the cuts under Hux’s nose. He has taken the bandages off for showering. The wounds have mostly healed, but the scars still create deep furrows in his skin. “All the time I’ve been aching to get back to you. Let me go for another round, I can go for at least an hour on the second round. Give you all the time you want.”

“I have to go.” Hux turns off the water and squirms out of Poe’s arms.

Poe watches him dry up. “Next time then.”

“Right. Because making plans worked so well last time.”

“I’ll be there next time, even if it kills me.”

“Why? Because you know now that you can take whatever you want from me and I don’t demand anything in return?”

Poe sighs. “Hux, if you think you don’t demand anything off me, you haven’t paid much attention to this exchange.”

Hux presses his lips together, drops his towel to the floor and vanishes into the bedroom. Poe follows him.

“Fine, I’ll bite. If you get so little out of our encounters, why come at all? You can’t tell me it’s to make me happy, you don’t care about my happiness.”

“It’s to make you happy.”

“Bullshit.”

“Or maybe it’s because I know you don’t give a fuck about me.”

“I do. I do give a fuck about you.”

Hux snorts. “Don’t start. The moment you start caring about me, this arrangement doesn’t work anymore. I need you to hate me.”

“Why? Because you hate yourself so much?”

“Don’t psychoanalyse me.”

“Give me an answer then.”

Hux picks up his knife and wipes it off on his torn shirt. He stuffs the shirt into the rubbish bin and pulls the jacket over his naked chest.

“When I was little my father had a zero tolerance policy,” he finally muses. “Whenever I made a mistake he would beat me till I got it in my head not to ever do it again. He made me cry almost every time he came around, sometimes beat me straight into the emergency room. Could be over anything. Grades, mistakes in my homework, lapses in the housework, or maybe I just looked at him wrong.”

Poe sucks in his breath. “What a fucking asshole.”

Hux casts him a cold look. “My father did parenting right. He taught me to do my best and not be a fucking sissy about it.”

“You call that parenting, I call that abuse.”

“He made huge sacrifices for me and my mother. Of course he expected us to do the same. He wanted me to be better than others, what’s so bad about that?”

“What’s bad about beating your own child into the hospital? Where to start.”

Hux shakes his head. He closes his belt over his trousers and reaches for his boots. “Of course I didn’t like it as a child. Imagine a five-year old who just broke a dinner plate, trembling in fear because he knew that it would mean the belt. Again.” He laughs out an icy laugh. “You’d think I’d try to hide it from him, no? Do my damned best to keep shit from him as much as possible to avoid the beatings.”

He closes the boots and cards a hand through his wet hair. “I didn’t. Every time I fucked up, I went to him and confessed and waited for his punishment. And a small part in me kept waiting and hoping that this one time he wouldn’t reach for his belt or his cane, but would instead pat my head and tell me it was all right and that he loved me.”

He shakes his head. “What a pathetic child. He never did, of course.”

Poe takes a deep breath. Pain twinges in his heart. “You’re saying you’re using me for self-harm.”

“Is that what you want to call it?”

“That’s awful. I don’t want to be a part of that.”

“And yet, you won’t stop.” Hux steps up to him, meets his eyes, head lowered. “Because you need this to get rid of your bitterness and your frustration and because you know that no matter what you do to me it won’t ever be as bad that I don’t deserve it. And no matter how far you go in here, it will never have repercussions in your personal life, because there is no way in hell I’d ever get involved in that. It’s convenient and you need it, so as long as I give you what you want you’ll take it and as long as you give me what I want I’ll come back for more.”

Words stuck in his throat, Poe stares at Hux. His stomach roils, threatening to spill out his supper.

“Quicksilver,” Hux says.

Poe blinks. “What?”

“Are you using Quicksilver? The messaging app, it’s encrypted and makes tracking impossible.”

“I know, I have it.”

“Give me your handle. No use making plans if you don’t know whether you’ll be alive in time to make it. Just shoot me a message when you’re free.”

Fingers numb, Poe stalks over to his jacket and pulls out his smart pad. He calls up his QR code for Hux to scan.

“Ace_racer.” Hux lips curl in a sneer. “Is there any part of your personality that isn’t tied up in flying?”

“Red_herring,” Poe returns. “What does that even mean?”

“It’s a literary device.”

“I know it’s a literary device, I’m not an idiot, I want to know what made you choose it.”

“I chose it because I don’t want a handle that can be even remotely traced back to me.” Hux stows away his smart pad. “Not a single person in the FO has this handle and I intend to keep it that way.”

“Fine. I’ll let you know.”

Hux nods. After a last glance around the room, he opens the door and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don’t try this at home, cupcakes


	6. I can’t stand Russian dolls. They’re so full of themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my letter worked and I talked to my great aunt today. Yay! Apparently she survived corona (At 92. Women in my family are tough cookies!) But my great uncle died :( It's a mixed bag.

“Okay, granted, last time didn’t work so well,” Zorii says as they speed in their cargo ship towards the storage transporter far off any trade route. “But try not to piss off the biggest bully in the house and this time you might be present for the drop instead of sitting in the hospital.”

“It nearly got me killed, you know. The missing the date part.” Poe prods his arm with his finger. He is wearing a sexy little scarf that Zorii put down to his coming out as ~~gay~~ to the other spice runners and that actually serves to hide the bandage around his throat. The cut heals fast, but it’s still visible. The injuries on his arm, however, will take a bit longer to vanish completely.

“That’s on you, I told you not to let them bait you. How’d the boyfriend take the apology?”

“Horribly.”

“Huh. We worked so hard on that.”

“Yeah, I think that’s where I went wrong. I don’t know why I thought you’d ever give good relationship advice. When I said the part about me going off for a spice run might be good, because it will give us both time and space to reawaken our feelings for each other, his mouth became very, very tense and when I said that we both said things that hurt the other, he accused me of trying to turn him into the bad guy without taking his hurt feelings into consideration.”

“Woah.”

“Those are the things you told me to say.”

“Yeah, why did you listen to me?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, I thought being a lady and all you’d be more in touch with your emotional side and know how to handle this delicate stuff.”

She pulls out her blaster and cocks it. “All right, that’s it, I’m shooting you now.”

“No, please not you too!” Laughing, Poe raises both hands.

“Me too,” she repeats while she stows away the blaster. “What does that mean? Did your boyfriend threaten you?”

“No. Nothing. Nevermind.”

“Ace, if your boyfriend threatens to hurt you, that’s not okay anymore.”

“It’s nothing, really. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but still.”

“Zorii, seriously, I’m much more bothered that he manages to twist everything into me feeling guilty as fuck, even when I think I have a right to be angry. How do I handle that?”

She shakes her head. “See, that’s why I don’t do long-term relationships.”

“No, you only do hairy monsters.”

Her lips purse into a half-grin. “Hairy monsters who like a bit of pegging and have an extremely long, nimble tongue, my friend.”

“La-la-la!” He stuffs fingers in both his ears. “That’s enough! I don’t need to hear that!”

Zorii breaks out into resounding laughter.

“Let’s drop the boyfriend subject, all right?” Poe says when she has calmed down again. “Tell me about the next trade. Is it FO again?”

“Yeah, but not spice this time.”

“No spice.”

“Have you ever heard of something called mint?”

He scratches his ear, frowning. “Maybe. It’s more of a high-end drug, isn’t it?”

She nods. “It’s a spice derivative, made with the same ingredient but cooked with some other stuff. It’s a functional drug.”

“A functional drug.”

“Ever taken spice?”

“Am I insane, of course I’ve never taken spice.”

“Well, when you take spice you get a trip. Couple of hours tops, can be a good trip or a bad trip, but that’s about it. You do it a couple of times, nothing too horrible will happen. But once you start using it a lot, the trips will get worse, your system shuts down quickly, and within three to four years you’re toast.”

“I know.” He rubs the itching scars on his arm. “That’s why I stay the hell away from the stuff.”

Zorii hums in agreement. “On the other hand, getting clean isn’t that hard. Once you’re through detox, it takes only a couple of weeks till you’re back to normal. Mint is… different.”

“Different.”

“Like I said, it’s a functional drug. You can take it for years and function normally. I know people who have been taking it once or twice a week for decades and are perfectly fine, no addiction, no nothing.”

“That sounds almost pleasant.”

“Right? Mint doesn’t give you a trip. According to my friends, all it does is give you a nice, pleasant feeling for about ten hours. It increases your productivity, makes you more focused. I’ve never tried it myself and won’t ever change that, but you know how you feel when you play video games?”

“Um, I guess?”

“Like, all you do is press buttons and do chores, but it feels rewarding, right? You can do it for hours and it’s fun.”

“Yeah.”

“Apparently, that’s what working under mint feels like.”

Poe brushes a hand through his hair. “All right, so where’s the catch?”

“The catch comes when you start underestimating the drug. Like I said, you can easily take it for decades as long as you don’t overdo it, but for every friend I have who monitors their intake and practices strict discipline, I have at least three who soon broke those rules. They started taking it almost daily, because it’s so nice, you know. They said they needed it to function and that it was all right, the moment they’d realize it was affecting their health they’d stop. The effects of mint are so mild that you don’t see how withdrawal could ever be bad.”

“Let me guess, it’s bad?”

“Hell.” She keeps her eyes on the route ahead. “A couple of weeks are enough to make your body get used to the stuff. You got your usual symptoms, increase of tolerance, so you need more, and if you take a tab or two or three a day, it quickly adds up. You can suckle them like a lollipop, so it’s easy, too.”

“It’s expensive.”

“It’s not cheap. But the tolerance isn’t the problem. The problem is that you can’t just stop, especially if you’ve been on it for a couple of months. The substance literally takes over your system. If you take it away from your body, it’s almost like you’re taking away food or water; your body has lost its ability to function on its own. The detox period is so bad that unsupervised it has a hundred percent mortality rate.”

Poe sucks in his breath. “So wait, you can’t get free of it once you’re addicted?”

“You can, but you need a clinic that knows what it does. There’s medication they can give you to keep you alive through detox, so although it might be painful, you can get through that. No, the real devil lies behind that.”

“Withdrawal.”

“Like a bad trip, only it doesn’t stop for twelve months or more.”

“Twelve fucking months.” Poe wipes a bit of sweat from his brow.

“Or more. Mint destroys your body’s ability to make dopamine and a lot of other hormones forever. During the withdrawal phase people develop anxiety that can get so bad it leaves them paranoid.”

“Violent?”

“No, not violent. But they start to self-hurt. They scratch their arms until they bleed and they just, they run away. From home, from work, from everything, because they’re convinced everybody is trying to harm them. I’ve seen so many who ended up on the street, simply because they couldn’t hold on to anything anymore.”

“What about medication?”

“That’s the crux. For the first twelve months or so, antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds don’t work. Once someone has gone through those twelve months they can start recovery, but most don’t make it through. There’s clinics specialized in long-term treatment of recovering mint addicts, but they’re rare and expensive and besides, they’re illegal under the new FO regulations. For most people, the moment they get addicted they’re in it for the rest of their lives.”

Poe breathes flat through his nose to combat the nausea. He has little cared about mint so far, since most spice runners don’t deal in it. “What happens if you don’t get clean?”

Zorii shrugs. “You know. It keeps your system in constant overdrive, so after ten years or so it starts to wear on your organs. Usually it’s the heart or the kidneys that give first. The weird thing is, until then you wouldn’t suspect they even have a problem. They’re usually good workers, happy people, untroubled, little conflict. Perfect little drones.”

“So that’s what the FO wants?”

“Yeah. Mint was a small business until three years back. Now it’s higher in demand than spice. The FO disguises it as supplements.” She leans over, opens the glove compartment, and pulls out a jar with a bright label on it. “Look.”

Poe takes the jar and inspects it. The label lists a series of vitamins; it looks vaguely familiar. “I could swear I’ve seen this before.”

“They sell it in stores, the real supplements that is. The ones containing mint have a little extra arrow on them at the bottom. This one doesn’t have the arrow, that way you know it’s just vitamins.”

“Holy shit.” He returns the jar to the glove compartment. “Wait, do the people know what they’re taking?”

Zorii shakes her head. “My guess is no. The FO mostly uses it for their middle management, not the military sector, but the civil servants. They get turned into happy little droids who don’t try to overthrow them and if someone starts making trouble, all you have to do is withdraw the drugs from them and make them suffer. It’s smart, isn’t it?”

“It’s cruel. They don’t even trust their own people.”

“They don’t trust their civilian workers. Their military might be infiltrated with fanatics horny for the Emperor, but the regular people? They took the job because it pays the bills. Can’t risk their disloyalty.”

“Then how can we do this? Zorii, how can we take these shipments to the people? Shouldn’t we exchange it for the real vitamins and burn this shit somewhere?”

“Blazes, ace, that’s a horrible idea on so many levels.” She drums her fingers against the steering handle. “First of all, the FO has a dozen different suppliers. The moment they realize we cheated them, they strike us off their supplier list, not to mention kill us. There’s enough others eager to do the job, so us not delivering this little batch isn’t going to change anything. Second, did you listen to a word I just said? If we deliver the wrong stuff you don’t know how many of their people will go into withdrawal. You’d sentence them to death. You think the FO is gonna provide them with hospital care?”

“Right.” He bites his lip. “Still. We can’t just sit back and let it happen.”

“Right now the best thing you can do is shut your mouth and do your job. Worry about saving these people once you’ve freed the Galaxy.”

Zorii nods at the giant station floating in space, buzzing with thousands of ships, tiny in comparison, departing and landing in its bays. Clearing takes barely ten minutes. As soon as they exit towards the port, Zorii drags Poe into one of the magnet trains arriving every two minutes.

“Our rendezvous is tomorrow morning,” she explains. “So we’ll spend a night in the city, you’ll like it. This station is fun.”

“What’s it called?” Poe watches giant living complexes swoosh by and give way to a series of buildings carrying a black logo shaped like a diamond interrupted by three small orbs.

“This station? Krie Market, you’ll find out why in a minute.”

“Is it just the black market? What’s that sign over there?”

Zorii leans past him to look out the window. “The black market and a research station. There is a star cluster nearby that messes with instruments. At first everyone thought they were just making instruments malfunction, but then they found out that certain wavelengths pick up on energy currencies that are stronger here than everywhere else, but that affect travel and signal reading over the whole Galaxy. So they study them here.”

“Cool. Like the Force?”

“I don’t know. Come on.”

The bullet train spits them out in the middle of a lively market offering everything anyone could ever want to buy: droids, household appliances, food, drink, pets, workshop tools, weapons, vehicles, any service in the Galaxy. Zorii takes him to a soup place that offers a thick broth with a tangy meat that makes Poe’s eyes water. Afterwards they hit the arcades.

It’s the first time in months that Poe has had a night off for fun. Usually he spends his night in the apartment, because these days Finn is rarely interested in going out and gets in a bad mood every time Poe goes to meet friends without him. Zorii beats him in five shooting games; he beats her in a racing game and a dance-off. Afterwards she shows him a tiny pub hidden in a maze of dark, narrow alleys that offers a flaming green drink and boys dancing on tables.

When they stagger back to the hotel, barely five hours to their rendezvous time, he almost runs into a man kneeling at the side of the street, retching against the wall.

“Sorry man, you alright?” Poe asks and lays a hand on his shoulder.

The man shrieks. He flinches back, scrambles into his own vomit, and cowers into the wall.

“Hey, it’s okay. I just want to help.”

“Please no!” Eyes wide and bloodshot, face haggard with his skin hanging off his bones like he lost a lot of weight in a short time, the man raises both arms. His sleeves are torn, his skin scratched open, oozing blood and puss. “Please, take everything you want, don’t hurt me, don’t-”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Poe squats down to be on the same eye level. “You need to go to the hospital, let me call someone.”

“No, they’ll kill me!” Crying, shivering, the man scrambles further back.

When Poe stands up to follow him, Zorii lays a hand on his shoulder.

“Give it up.”

“He needs help, he’s sick, we can’t just leave him behind.”

“Poe.”

He tries to follow the man as he starts running deeper into the street maze. Zorii’s grip holds him back.

Poe yanks his arm free. “I only tried to help.”

“I told you this is what they’re like.”

He gapes at her. “Wait, you’re saying-”

She nods. “Yep. That’s what mint does to you.”

“But- but that means he needs a hospital. We need to find him, we have to-”

“He’s in withdrawal, which means he survived detox. There’s hundreds like him around, what are you gonna do, try to save them all?”

Poe wraps both arms around his torso, shaking. “Why here? Why are they all here?”

“Because it’s one of the easiest places to get mint and also to make money without holding down a job. Day labourers for the shipyard, but even more so, the mint and spice factories. And services of course.”

“You mean prostitution.”

“Not only prostitution, rich people hire them for all sorts of shit. But yeah, mainly prostitution.”

“This is wrong.” When she drags him out of the alley, he follows. The image of the man, scared to death of him, arms bloody from his own nails, is seared into his brain. “This is so wrong, how can I accept a load of this shit tomorrow and deliver it, it’s going to ruin lives, Finn was right, I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Zorii-”

“You have no choice.” She nudges him towards a hotel, plain but clean. “Nothing’s going to get better or worse if you make that shipment, but it might get you into the FO. That’s what you want, right?”

“I didn’t know… I thought it was just spice.”

“Come on, try and catch some sleep.” She directs him towards the elevator, up onto the eleventh floor, then into a small room with two beds. “You already knew the FO was bad. You’ve seen what they did with Hosnian Prime and Kijimi. You can’t be surprised that they do this shit on the micro level, too.”

“I know.” He takes deep breaths. “I know. We’ll take them down, I promise.”

She gives him a gentle squeeze and pats his back.

***

The package is smaller than Poe expected. A single pallet stacked with boxes the size of a black box up to his waist. BB-8 loads it into their cargo trunk while Zorii signs the papers the trading representative hands her.

“That’s it,” Poe says as they shoot off the landing bay. “How much money are we ferrying right now?”

“About eight million credits, I’d wager.” Zorii flicks a couple of switches on the flight console that erase their flight data from passing control ships. “There is little danger that the FO will stop us, since I got the official merchant badge, but as long as we’re in the remote territories there’s pirates all around us. Be on alert.”

They take turns piloting every two hours to make sure their attention does not slip. When they finally reach the regular trade routes, Poe breathes in relief. He never thought he would be grateful to return to FO-controlled territory.

Zorii takes them to space station Z-168 where a Final Order commando is waiting to relieve them of their cargo. The closer they come, the more Poe’s pulse surges. Facing FO troops in battle is one thing; docking their station as an ally and trading with them something else entirely.

Two young officers receive them, check the cargo while BB-8 stays hidden and sign the papers.

“Thank you,” the lieutenant says as she shakes Poe’s hand with a smile. “We were almost out. I’m Lieutenant Tazlania.”

“Mike.” He squeezes her hand while he looks around the port. “This is a nice station.”

“First time on an FO station?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs with a crooked grin. “Is it that obvious?”

She laughs. “Your eyes got round as a BB-unit head. Do you want to take a little tour?”

She seems almost human. Much more so than Hux, who manages to look like a cut-out FO general even when he is naked and moaning from taking cock like a champ. On the other hand, even if she were a handsome young fellow, she wouldn’t get Poe to break his principles and cheat on his boyfriend.

“I would love a tour, thank you.”

“Follow me then.”

He turns to Zorii, who shakes her head. “I’ll have lunch and wait for you at the ship.”

Poe follows Lieutenant Tazlania into the station, past the storage and conference rooms to the cafeteria. When the doors slide open Poe inadvertently stops and gulps. At least two hundred stormtroopers look up from their lunch, cast him a glance, then return to their food and conversation. He stands, nerves sizzling, waiting for the troopers to charge at him and shoot him down. Instead Tazlania waves him to one of the tables.

“Are you hungry?”

He sits down between her and a young trooper. “Starving, actually.”

“Let me get you something.” She calls one of the serving droids to their table and orders for them.

“You’re one of the merchants,” the trooper says between two mouthfuls of porridge.

“I’m Mike. First time on a station.”

“It’s a small one. I’m FP-1709. I used to serve on the Starkiller before, you should have seen that thing.”

 _Watched it blow up, actually_.

“Oh, wow. Were you there when it broke down?”

“Nah, I’d be dead if I had been. They shipped us out the week before.”

The droid brings their trays with food. It looks better than the porridge; actual meat with a heap of green vegetables. Poe digs in.

Around him the troopers resume their talks. Most of it is gossip, no different from a day off at the Resistance base. Everybody is excited about the magical adventure movie teased for the end of the month. Some are playing Tatooine Race, a pod racing simulator, and compare scores and equipment. A small group is planning a birthday surprise for one of their friends.

Normal people, doing normal people stuff. Assisting the most oppressive regime the Galaxy has seen in centuries in ruining the lives of billions with hate and violence. Do they ever question their mission like Finn did?

The doors slide open and two men stride into the hall almost perfectly in step. Poe’s heart rate spikes into hummingbird range. He jerks his hand across his tray and sweeps half his plate to the floor, then dives under the table to hide.

FP-1709 leans down to check on him. “You all right?”

“Perfect,” Poe grinds out. “I’m a klutz.”

The guy grins. “Okay, which one made you duck? General Pryde or Admiral Hux?”

“Who? And who? I just dropped my food.”

FP laughs. “Don’t worry, I get it. I don’t want to meet those two, either, especially not the duo. They can be vicious.”

“Blazes, so vicious.” Poe tries to peer between table and bench. “Are they gone?”

“Yeah, they left.”

He scrambles upwards again. His whole face must be flushed like a tomato.

Tazlania casts him a curious glance. “You’ve met the generals?”

“Pryde, no. Never seen him. Hux, yeah, he doesn’t like me.”

“Oh, of course not.” She gives his words a dismissive wave. “Hux likes no one. Are you done? Do you want to continue the tour?”

“Uh, sure. Just out of curiosity, what is Hux doing here?”

She stands up. “Today is routine inspection. Admiral Hux and General Pryde travel around to make sure all stations run smoothly.” Her intercom bleeps. “Shoot. I have to go. Let FP-1709 give you the rest of the tour. It was nice meeting you, Mike.”

She shakes his hand again with the same smile, then takes the same exit Hux and Pryde walked towards.

“All right, mate, what do you want to see?” FP asks and leads him towards the other exit.

“I wanna say the bridge, but I really don’t want to run into Hux. The sleeping quarters?”

“Sure thing.”

FP leads him through white, barren corridors deeper into the station. With every step he takes Poe’s nerves screech higher. Behind every corner he could run into Hux.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he asks when FP stops at a door to type in a code. “What does that braid mean?”

“This one?” FP tugs at a single braid adorned with a thin green ribbon in his black hair otherwise shorn short. “It’s a tradition from my home village. It’s cool, no?”

“Very cool. You know where you come from?”

“Yeah, from the Arkanis sector, why?”

“Oh, it’s just, I thought stormtroopers weren’t told where they’re from.”

“We aren’t.” FP purses his lips. “Can you keep a secret?”

Poe lays a hand to his heart. “Like a hutt a gold coin.”

“Follow me.” FP turns around and leads him into a different room, this one with a large data screen. “We don’t advertise it, but the information on all stormtroopers is stored in the cloud. One of the captains accidentally dropped the key once.”

“So you can look yourself up?”

“Yeah.” FP presses a button and the screen lights up. “Wanna see?”

Half a plan begins to form in Poe’s mind. “Yes. Show me your file.”

He watches FP type in the password, then tap on the F tab and scroll through the list.

“FN,” Poe says when they near the middle. “I feel like I’ve heard about an FN before.”

“You mean FN-2187?” FP stops scrolling and taps on the FN row. A file appears, of a soldier with the number FN-0001. “He’s the most famous traitor in all of the FO. Got out before anyone else did. He’s a bit of a hero around here.”

“A hero.”

“Yeah.” He activates the search bar and types in ‘2187.’ “You know, because he made that choice. We’ve all been thinking about it, but it’s scary, especially now that the Emperor is back. If we got out now, they could hunt us down everywhere in the Galaxy.”

“That’s true.” Relief lifts a bit of weight off his shoulders. So they are not just mindless soldiers who never question their masters.

Finn’s file opens on the screen. He is young in the photo, barely twenty. There are pictures of him as a child as well. It is the first time Poe sees them. For a moment, he forgets himself and starts smiling at the little boy with the determined glint in his eyes and the cocky grin on his lips. Cute as hell.

Before FP can move on, he scans the file. _Deployment status: Deceased. Home planet: Jakku_. Poe’s jaw drops. Fucking Jakku. He hides a hysterical giggle behind a cough while he commits the precise location to memory.

“You all right?” FP asks.

“Yeah. It says here he’s dead.”

“Oh yeah, they told all of us that’s what happened. Killed in service. The truth got out, though, and now everybody knows his name.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Right?” FP closes the file. “Anyway, this is the record room. Do you wanna see the living quarters next?”

They have barely taken two steps, when voices come towards them.

“Actually-” He drags FP back into the record room. “Is there another path we can take?”

FP bursts out laughing. “Mate, you really hate Hux, don’t you? Follow me.”

They barely leave the room and turn a corner, when Hux and Pryde appear. Poe can’t help it; he chances a glance at the two men. Pryde, a hawkish man with a cruel sneer on his face, is walking half a step ahead now, without bothering to check if Hux follows him.

“After you take count of the stormtroopers, submit your proposal for improvements to me,” Pryde is saying as they stride past the side corridor where Poe is hiding behind FP. “I expect at least five pages this time.”

“Yes, Allegiant General,” Hux answers in a voice Poe has never heard on him before. It sounds almost identical to his usual military voice, except for the barely noticeable tweak at the end.

_Is Hux afraid of Pryde?_

“Shit,” FP groans and drags Poe down the corridor. “I don’t ever want to meet those two with no witnesses around.”

“Yeah,” Poe mumbles. “Actually, could you show me back to the cargo bay? I think it’s time I get going.”

“Sure. Just your luck that you landed on the day of inspection.”

“I’ll come again.”

“Cool. Next time I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys.”

He keeps on prattling on the way to the cargo bay, but Poe cannot shake the memory of the nervous Hux, submitting to Pryde like a wolf puppy to a pack leader. There is a story there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see, I mentioned BB-8

**Author's Note:**

> For most of this fic you’ll have to add the “and BB-8 was there, too” in your head, because I constantly forget about its existence and can’t be bothered to change much about that. Truth is, BB-8 is a cute visual add-on in the movies, but a bitch to include in writing and would honestly just distract from anything relevant unless you’re writing a fic explicitly about droids.


End file.
